Why not?
by VintageTypewriter2346
Summary: [Dabble] Can you love someone without hurting them?
1. Chapter 1

_~ Why not? ~ _

White hills roll over the bed— the fickle smell of salty and greasy popcorn whisk together with a constant giggle— _she_ couldn't stop. Oh no, god forbid she went silent for the video on the large flat-screen dangling by hooks upon a wall—her silence would only mean rage, in which no one can handle.

"The groupies are going to be _so_ crazy after this," she snickers—hands caked in butter and lips shimmering while she pops another handful of popcorn into her mouth. "I feel bad for you," she sneaks a glance to the form lying beside her.

"It's not that bad," he tries—eyes stuck on the television as music fills the room; the image of a mountain view in black and white, rocky hills in the foreground along with a snaking river in the middle.

The woman snorts before pointing to the male walking up the rocky hill— _shirtless_ —to reveal his perfectly sculpted abs; wearing nothing but jeans.

"Please tell me you're joking, "She slyly chuckles.

"It's not that bad," he repeats.

"You're wearing nothing but jeans," she states.

"Still not that bad."

"Come on! You're walking on rocks without shoes—you can't deny it; it's totally going against logic."

"It's not that bad," he sighs while watching her eyes pace from the video to him. "I'm making a fashion statement—"

"More like: promoting hospitals," she interrupts as she scraps the bottom of the blue-bowl. "As your best-friend, I _have_ to tell you the honest true, and the truth is—this video is complete garbage," she rebuts with pride.

He smiles softly for her ways—bright-ocean blue eyes on her form as she scratches at the bottom of the bowl. "And as _your_ best-friend, I have to tell you—there's no more popcorn, so stop scrapping the old butter off the bottom—it's gross," he sits up from the sheets, making their ruffles seem like desperate cries for his departure.

She smirks for his jab, but it doesn't do much to her spirits—they've known each other for years—since they were little kids (six-years-old, maybe). There wasn't one thing that he could say to bring her down, well, nothing that came to mind.

"As your _guest_ , you should be getting me more popcorn," she chuckles; placing the empty bowl forcefully in his palms, she watches him stand—sun-kissed skin and white as winter hair that sways with his step.

"I shouldn't be feeding you all this crap," he stops—eyes on the bowl and then to the woman. "You are a famous soccer play, Karin," she gawks for his sudden comment and rolls her eyes.

"New flashlight pretty-boy, I'm a professional athlete—one that works-out all of her calories in one day. I think I have the right – no the privilege – to eat as much popcorn as I want," with each word she narrows her eyes on the male.

The young woman knows her schedule like clock-work: wake-up in the morning and go for a jog, eat nothing but healthy foods for breakfast, go to the training center where she'd train for hours on end—by the end of her training she and the team would be shaking like crazy since they didn't have any calories left to burn. Once done with training, she'd go home, shower, ice her aching muscles, watch a little television, eat healthy and wait—wait for her famous best-friend who had all the women in Japan at his feet, drooling over his voice, abs and turquoise eyes.

She hates it—not only because they were strangers who didn't know shit about her best-friend, but for the fact she's been in love with the singer since they were kids—not that sappy love that's in movies, but the best-friend love that old-people have in public or in family gatherings— _they_ knew everything about each other, and where there for everything; she wanted the same thing but with more romance—sadly, she's never had the guts to do it.

So, stuck in her repeated daily-life, she plays the best-friend everyday—even when it kills her to see the groupies he takes home and sleeps with; but she does it.

"Fine, fine, "he sighs in defeat—he knows there was no-way he'd be able to convince her; that's just the way his best-friend is—she been like that since they were kids.

"Remember to put extra-butter again, Toshi!" she shouts—he waves off the request, completely ignoring the annoying name that she's engraved into her vocabulary like the alphabet.

The door closes as the singer heads down to his expensive kitchen—Karin huffs as she lays back on the massive bed— _it_ was one of _those_ days—the one's where he'd call her to come over because he finished a video-shot for his next big-hit – it was like a ritual now: he'd get home, call her and tell the soccer player to come over, she'd arrive, they'd eat pizza or take-out, later they'd find themselves in his bedroom look at the new-video while her body is cladded in either a pair of his boxers and a shirt, or her own pajama's she left at his house.

She turns onto her side—shirt slightly unbuttoned to reveal the heap of her somewhat large chest, long raven locks swimming over the white sheets that purely smell of her love, grey-eyes looking over the familiar room and plush lips greased with butter—this is _her_ life—the same one that aches her heart every time the tabloids would print something with another woman or his _girlfriend._

Never ever—not in a million year—would she tell Toshiro though. There were too many things that could go wrong: their friendship (probably not), families getting into fights (most likely not)—okay, there was nothing that could make it all end badly—she was just, just too afraid of rejection to tell him.

Think about it—being rejected by _your_ very own best-friend? It's a terrible thought, not one that she could stomach.

" _Histugaya Toshiro, he is one hell of a man,"_ the soccer player sighs for the news reporter's statement— _she_ could only agree with the woman.

" _He maybe good-looking, but according to the press, he's quite the player"_ the male anchor rebuts in his fancy suit with his hair slicked back.

"The biggest player out there," Karin chuckles; arm crossed, her eyes and lips holding a sad smile—her best-friend is known for hooking-up with his groupies – not just once (oh no, he has more sex than that), but twice – if he really enjoys that one girl, he may take her number and give her the title: _"Groupie"_ with a side of emoji's that symbolize her for her _special talents_ in bed.

She loves him though—to the press (herself), the groupies and foreseer's, he's nothing but a good-looking guy with a voice, who can't keep it in his pants—but to Karin he is all that, but much more: he's the boy next door who lived with his old-granny, loves watermelon and eats it like he'll die without it, he's one of the smartest, most stubborn, proper and polite guys you'd ever meet, and there's so much more to him—they'll never know that side of Toshiro though.

" _True, but there's a good side to him right?"_ the woman continues—the soccer player groans as she grabs the remote, ready to switch the channel. _"I mean, he's best-friends with Kurosaki Karin—one of the best forwards on the female soccer team for this country—also, according to our lucky star, she and Toshiro have never slept together."_

"True," Karin mutters; lowering the remote to her lap she stares at the screen—she and Toshiro haven't slept together – well, they've slept in the same bed together but they never did anything sexual—heck, he's never kissed her either.

" _But Kurosaki-san has a boyfriend of two-years, remember? Hanakari Jinta—another famous man,"_ the man snickers.

Karin narrows her eyes for the mention of Jinta—they've been together for two-years, but she didn't really have any feelings for the red-head—she only started dating him to get Toshiro out of her heart, he knew that too, but, her efforts failed and she's still deeply in love with her best-friend. To be honest, her _"boyfriend"_ annoyed her, but he could be a good-guy (when he tries).

" _What about Histuagaya-kun and his girlfriend?"_ —the soccer players' lips tighten for the mention. _"The angel of a person and actress: Hinamori Momo—he hasn't cheated on her"._

Another true fact, but the only reason why he hasn't cheated on the actress is because she's constantly calling him, pushing threats at females who look at the singer too long (even the soccer player), won't allow anyone alone with him, unless she's there as well. The pretend _angel_ was actually a real bitch who needed to be hit _hard_ — with a car—scratch that; a bus is better.

.

.

 _Why not?_

.

.

He stares at the red popcorn-maker as the white pieces of corn jump into the air with a friendly _pop._ The singer looks over the kitchen to reassure that everything was done.

"Blenders out for Karin in the morning—her clothes are clean and folded in the bathroom upstairs—my pagers, cell-phones, PDA, computer and tablets are charging—I called Momo earlier, so I don't need to call her again, right?—my alarm clock is set for both I and Karin, and I turned on the sprinters for the front and back lawn," he reminds himself. "Yup, everything's done."

Since everything was done, he was left to enjoy the soccer-players presence—he loved when she came over; it gave him a break from being a pop-star with crazy fan-girls, and allowed him to be a normal guy who has flaws—with Karin he can be rude, burp in her face and fart in her presence – disgusting: yes, but when you can't fart with freedom, you'll take anytime you can.

Thankfully, she doesn't mind—actually, the soccer player makes it a competition, which told him: there's no gross boundary with Karin.

' _Buzz! Buzz!'_ he hears from one of his cell-phones; glancing over he notices it's his girlfriend calling.

The singer tries to ignore since she was nothing but a pest—at first he thought Momo was a nice girl (which she is), but after they began having sex she became obsessive. Before the actress would scream at Karin for being around him—once she even yelled at Karin for give him a high-five—now, she goes ape-shit if Karin's within a meter of him.

Tonight is going to be a relaxing night—no crazy girlfriend, no managers ringing his ear off, no press at his throat, definitely no groupies around his house and responsibility is thrown out the window. All he is going to do tonight consists of buttery popcorn, farting, burping, laughing at his and Karin's advertisements failures, cheesy and corky movies, milkshakes, pizza (maybe), childish games like would you rather, and cuddling up with his best-friend after they pass-out.

Simple night. Just what he needs—with his best-friend.

"Toshiro!" his eyes look over to the staircase to see Karin peeking over the railing—breast dangling and raven-lock swaying in the air, while her eyes look over his form.

"What's up?" the singer calmly asks.

"I think the popcorns done," she points to the machine—quickly he scrambles to turn off the maker and place the corn into the blue bowl. "Seems like someone is off in dreamland," he frowns slightly for her witty-remark—he was in dreamland; one that needed to be perfectly executed.

"I was think about something," Toshiro tells her; the soccer player climbs down the staircase.

"This something being?" she trails; elbow resting on the kitchen-island and eyes stuck on his form.

She watches as the singer pours the melted butter into the bowl—placing the lid on top he shakes the popcorn. "I missed you around here for the last week or two, "he admits.

"I've been busy," she plainly answers.

"With what? Jinta?" he growls.

"Such a tone could be preserved as jealousy," she sneers.

"Please? Me jealous of that red-head?"

"Well, he does get all of this," she points to her body.

"Oh yeah? I bet I'm better in bed."

"Momo would kill you for that comment."

"What she doesn't know won't hurt her—"

"Correction. Once she finds out it will kill her—and news-flashes Mr. Emoji, I'm the only girl in your life that hasn't slept with you, you might want to keep that record going before the press starts calling you a man-whore insisted of a sexy play-boy."

She had a point there—Momo is probably the first girl he hasn't cheated on, which could explain her craziness—that and the tabloids had every tale of his cheating ways on a magazine cover.

"I respect you for that," he points to the soccer-star as he pops a piece of popcorn into his mouth. "We should totally celebrate that on-going record," the singer moves to the cabinet and pulls out an old bottle of rum before grabbing his home-phone.

"Nice try," Karin chuckles. "It's not the first time you tried to get in my pants with aged-liquor and greasy pizza."

Toshiro raises a brow, leans over the counter—staring into her onyx-eyes, her breath on his cheek for their closeness. "When did I ever use that move on you?"

"My sixteenth birthday—my dad and brother ended-up getting drunk, you and I snuck over to your house, you took out your granny's oldest bottle of scotch and a phone-book," she lines out the details—when his face twists into confusion she grins. "You then say, and I quote: _'Now that we're closer to adulthood, how about we have some adult fun and have some greasy-intoxicated-hot sex, while my granny is out of town'_."

"That was a sarcastic joke," he bashfully chuckles for her memory. "I'm surprised you even remember that, that was— _pfft—_ ages ago."

"I'm a woman," she chirps. "We don't forget."

"Please, you forgot to wear panties two-weeks ago!" he scoffs.

She grimaces for the reminder. "Well that's why I have you," she caresses his cheek "You're my little pantie-bitch."

"You know how ironic that is since I've never been in those panties?" Toshiro snickers before putting the rum away.

"I thought you wanted to know why I was _so_ busy this week," Karin decided to change the topic for both their benefit.

" _Riight! Riight!_ " he repeats—throwing popcorn into her mouth, the singer smirks. "Please, great ol' mighty Karin, tell me what you were busy with for the last week"—the mockery in his voice usually occurred when he believed she ignored his calls and text-messages, even the sudden visits to her house.

"Somehow," she stops to chew the popcorn. "Rukia—my brothers _thing_ —got a hold of my manager."

" _Thing?_ What the hell is that?" Toshiro snaps.

"Easy—best-friend, fuck-buddy, co-worker, house-mate and therapist," Karin says casually—he looks at her with confusion. "Basically, a _thing,_ is my brothers way of saying: he's too much of a pussy to make her a girlfriend – okay, they've been at it for a few years – so, forget the girlfriend-title. He's too afraid to make her a fiancée," she corrects.

"Seems like your brother," Toshiro sighs "Anyways, what did she want from your manager?"

"She directing this music video for some big-time American pop-star, and she wants me to be in the music-video"—his jaw nearly drops to the floor for the news. "It's nothing big—"

"Nothing big?!" he shouts. "Karin! You're finally entering the big-leagues!"

"Soccer is a big league," she growls. "Some of those players from other countries are double my size."

He sighs in frustration. "That's not what I meant—by being in a music-video it will showcase your career and others will want you."

"Jinta isn't good enough?" she raises a brow.

"Not _that_ kind of want, idiot" he flicks her forehead. "I mean: rappers, singers, shows, and play-boy—"

"Actually they contacted me this week too," she interrupts.

"That's my jig," his sudden excitement ends. "What the hell do they want with you?"

"It's just an interview," she waves off the issue. "It's not like I'm going to become the next super-model of play-boy. They're probably writing some piece on you – _again_ —and need information from me."

"What more information can they want? They know everything about me," the singer groans; Karin shrugs before grabbing the popcorn and heading towards the stairs.

"Don't know and don't care!" she exclaims. "Now, hurry up before we miss the beginning of the cheesy romance marathon on Movie Time!" Karin snaps.

"Please, you just can't wait for _'Pretty Woman'_ to come on," he snickers as he runs up the stairs behind her.

" _You and I are such similar creatures Vivian. We both screw people for money,"_ (A/N: an actual quote from Pretty Woman—trust me, it is), she mocks with a grin.

"Are you trying to state: one of us is a prostitute?" he questions as they enter his room once again.

"If one of us were, it'd definitely be you," she flops onto his bed and switches the channel. "You've definitely have had more sex than me, and with countless people—I'm surprised you still have a penis."

"Just shut-up and watch the cheesy movie" he nudges her slightly as their eyes watch _Titanic_ on the large screen—later on, they both knew _Pretty Woman_ would be playing and Karin would say the lines with _Julia Roberts._

Both the soccer-player and singer, didn't know this would be (most likely) the last time they could have one of these nights together—things were about to change.

.

.

.

* * *

Image of this chapter: a Mountain View in the background, river in the middle-ground and rocky-hill in the foreground.

Basically to those who read (Pug's love and the Deep end) know this style of fic for me—but for those who haven't read it, I'll explain.

So, everyday I use a random picture generator—I have three tries (only); if I change the picture more than three times (which happens), I have to restart my browser and restart my three tries. Anyways, with that picture, I incorporate it into the chapter and at the end reveal the image. This story should be updated everyday (hopefully). The gif to this style—it's basically my first idea, worked, edited and continued after a ten-minute free-write. That's basically it!

Until next chapter!

R&R


	2. Chapter 2

_~ Why not? ~ _

The camera's flash like lightening—behind the lens the singer can see the photographer smiling evilly—Toshiro knew that smile all-too-well; he's had the same photographer since he signed his contract with Play-boy, even when he dabbles with Calvin Klein.

"Come on, give me more—ego" the woman eagerly squeals, her finger never leaving the button. "That's it taichou!"—she loves to call him that name; he thought it was some extremely kinky remark or technique to boost his confidence, but in truth it's nothing but her preference.

She places the camera down and wears a clever-smile. "You're on fire today," the busty-blonde places her hands on her hips. "Mind telling me what groupie you banged without inviting me?"

As the swarm of stylist covers the singer, he glares at the photographer. "I didn't bang anyone, Rangiku," he coldly answers—once he slept with the photographer, but after that one-time she would crack little sexual-jokes and teases to get on his nerves.

"Please! The last time you posed with your signature smolder, you slept with a Brazilian super-model," she cheerfully says, hands pulling her hair back into a ponytail. "So, tell me, what's got you in a smolder mood?"

His eyes become cold suddenly—Rangiku notices the look and follows his gaze to the door—she looks pass the half-naked models, before her jaw locks in place.

"I'll tell you later," Toshiro says; pushing the stylist off his body he walks towards the new-comer.

The woman looks around with her large eyes, mouth gapping and hair pulled back into a bun—he could tell she has just came from an interview by the pencil-skirt and white blouse on her form.

She looks like any regular woman but with an aura of purity and innocence—when she really isn't any of those things; she's demanding, obsessive, easily-jealous, and sensitive but can be evil—Momo was definitely an amazing actress.

"What are you doing here?" Toshiro questions—she spins around with an innocent look in her eyes.

"Better yet, why are you posing for Play-boy?" the singer hisses for her dark-tone; when she shoves a magazine into his chest he looks down and take\ a look at the cover: it was him and Karin… walking into his house, laughing—just _fucking_ great!

"You know I have a contract with Play-boy, only when they need male-models," he tells her—eyes on the cover— he reads the headline in yellow: _ **"Just friends?"**_

Clever—oh how clever this writer must feel—twisting the events of last night for the public. "Mind telling me why the hell you and _Karin_ are plastered all over the press again?" the actress growls out the soccer-players name—she didn't just dislike Karin, but hates – the model didn't know why, he just ignored his girlfriends hatred and hung-out with the soccer-player—like hell, he'd let Momo run his life.

"Mind telling me why I can't be around my best-friend?" he raises a brow.

The actress's face slowly became crimson as she looks around—the endless female models lining-up for a photoshoot and stylist scurrying around like mice. "You just can't see it," she squeaks.

"See what? Your jealousy? I see it perfectly," Toshiro sighs.

"Not that, Shiro" she huffs—his eyes spark with a cold-look for her squirming ways. "S-She loves you."

"Momo, she's my best-friend, of course we love each other—she's like my sister," he's getting tired of the actresses shit—if it wasn't Karin, it was Rangiku and if not one of them, it's a groupie—she had no trust in him at all.

"Not sibling love," she glares. "I'm talking about _love-love_ ," taking the magazine she points to Karin with aggression. "That sparkle in her eyes—that's not sibling-love, Shiro."

"Taichou, hurry up!"—the model sighs before looking over to Rangiku as she directs staff to move objects onto the set. "We've got three more sets and then you can talk to your little actress."

He looks over to his girlfriend—quickly he kisses her cheek and takes the magazine; if she held onto it, she'd only think of more crazy-theories. "I've got to go"—he whispers. "I'll talk to you later."

"But Shiro—"Momo tries.

"Good, now give me sexy!" Rangiku shouts as she readies her camera and starts her photo-frenzy again.

 _._

 _._

 _Why not?_

 _._

 _._

A deep sigh passes through her pale-lips as she exits the large-stadium—her skin glows in the dripping sun-set, grey-eyes darkening for hunger and long-raven locks pulled into a pony-tail.

The soccer-player plays with her long bangs _"I should get them cut—maybe I'll go short again—it's less work,"_ she hums with her thoughts—finally reaching her car with her head in the clouds she doesn't notice the person sitting on the hood.

The soccer-players hands fiddle inside her sports-bag for her car-key. Enable to find them in her bag, she shoves her hands into her sweat-pants pockets—rattling runs through the air and she cheers slightly.

"Your occasional ditty-ness is cute," the person says—sliding off the hood of her car and walking over towards the tired woman.

Her eyes go to the individuals—bright-wild hair cut short, taller enough to over-power her height of 5'7". She looks over to the large arm they drape over her shoulder—massive biceps and triceps they developed for movies, the tattoo's that were scattered over their sun-kissed skin.

"Jinta, what are you doing here? I thought you were filming down in Hong-Kong," her voice wasn't close to happy. "How'd you even know I was here? You never come to my practices or games."

The actor sighs before kissing her forehead softly. "I missed you," he tries—she knows it's a total lie—he used to run for the chance to be way from her. "Hong-Kong made me realize how much you m—"

"Who are you fucking?" she instantly assumes—breaking out of his hold she leans against her car door.

"What?"Jinta growls—eyes filling with fire.

"You heard me," Karin bits quickly. "The only time you kiss-up to me is when you cheat"—he shifts slightly in his spot—sadly it's true.

There were a few things about their relationship that the press didn't know—Jinta is a notorious cheater. Karin found out when she walked in on one of his "carded-times". By now she knew that every-time he went to a different country he'd be sleeping with one of his co-workers.

"Listen Karin—"he tries, but stops when her eyes become glossy with tears – he's never seen her cry before, not even the first time he cheated.

The soccer-player had to admit—dating a cheater hurts, a lot more than she thought.

Even though she didn't have feeling for the red-headed actor, she still had respect for herself, but every-time he cheats, she swallows that respect and puts on a smile or another wall. "You should go," Jinta tenses for her sudden suggestion.

"Karin, come on, you don't even like me—"he tries.

"That doesn't make it okay for you to cheat, Jinta," she growl—the actor jumps slightly. "Just—just get the fuck out of my face!"

Throwing her sports-bag into the back-seat of her car, she starts her vehicle—he stands outside the vehicle watching as she puts the car into drive and speeds out of the parking lot.

.

.

 _Why not?_

 _._

 _._

Karin looks out the window as she drives down the highway—the sight of the large sea of water, and the lengthy bridge in the distance seems to calm her for some reason. Her grey eyes glance over the series of city builds—their windows shinning like diamonds in the sun-set.

As the seagulls fly in the sky, she turns on her radio— _she_ wants to drown-out the pain and questions that ramble in her skull.

Karin doesn't understand—why cheat and tell her? Jinta could've kept it a secret and never told her – but, eventually she would find-out and the pain would come once again.

Sometimes delaying pain seems a lot easier than dealing with it all at once.

Her car comes to a stop behind the white-line, Karin stares at the red-light as it mocks her—she really wants to go home, shower, soak her muscles, watch horror movies and cry until she thought her eyes were going to fall out of her head—but she can't.

Since she'll be in the music-video in a few weeks, she was instructed to take dance-lessons which meant she needed a partner—thankfully last night, while engorging herself with popcorn and corny-lines, she asked Toshiro – he might not be the best person to ask since he'd try to sleep with their dance instructor, but she thought Jinta was still in Hong-Kong. Plus she can count on Toshiro to laugh when she falls on her face.

Karin _needs_ a good laugh right now—it's nearly mandatory.

The soccer-player sniffles as she turns down a lone road—many building cover her mirrors and the lively cramped main-strip.

' _Buzz! Buzz!'_ she looks down to her cell-phone vibrating on the plush seat, the image of Toshiro on the screen and his nickname: _**Toshi**_.

She pulls into a parking-spot and answers the call "Yes, Mr. Play-boy?" she jokes with a false grin on her lips.

Karin looks over to the white Hummer a few spaces away—leaning against the wheel, dressed in a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt with the collar stretched out, was no other than Toshiro.

"I was wondering if you forgot we have dance class," she chuckles sadly and shakes her head.

"No, I didn't forget," Karin replies—when she sniffles the phone goes quiet _\- 'Great Karin! Now he knows,'_ she groans as she leans her head onto the stirring-wheel.

The model nearly sprints to her car door, without knocking he opens the vehicle and looks at the raven-haired woman. "Karin," Toshiro says with a slight frown. "Where you crying?"

"No… it's just allergies," she tries to play it off—but he sees right through her efforts. "You know how I get with pollen," Karin lies.

"What did Jinta do?" Toshiro growls—he crouches down and rubs her back as comfort—the only reason he figured it was the actor is because she would never cry unless it's over something she can't handle, and he knew all-too-well, that the soccer-player can't handle her idiot-boyfriend.

"It's not—"she tries.

"You can't lie to me Karin—you suck at it," he interrupts; the comment makes the soccer-player chuckle and look over to see his worried expression. "I mean, if lying to me was a sport, you'd fall flat on your ass and eat dirt."

"Don't get cocky, pretty-boy," Karin rolls her sore-eyes before removing her seatbelt. "I know all your secrets."

"Same goes for you, Nose-picker," he steps back as she climbs out of the car.

She scoffs for the remark and pushes the singer slightly. "I stopped that in grade two. How dare you?" Karin chuckles with a genuine smile.

Toshiro instantly wraps her in his arms—nose buried into her sweaty-locks as her body presses into his chest—when he felt her hands grip the back of his shirt, he knew this is the right choice.

' _This is why I love him…_ ' she thought—inhaling his scent she closes her eyes; he never fails to smell like winter, watermelon and sugar—it's his signature cologne.

"You know…" she perks for his tone; the hands rubbing her back come to a halt as he tightens his hold. "I made a promise to myself, when you started dating, that I would kick-the-literal-shit out of anyone who made you cry."

"Why didn't I know about this promise?" she questions; looking up to the singer she notices the blush on his cheeks.

"Because—it doesn't matter!" he snaps with embarrassment—sadly, _she's_ the only one who can make him blush.

"I thought we didn't keep secrets from each other," Karin rebuts.

Toshiro lays his cheek on her head—his fingers tangled in her ponytail by accident. "Well, _sometimes_ , we need to keep secret from each other"—she had to agree; her biggest secret was her love for him.

"Mind telling me one of these secrets?" her onyx-eyes locks with his.

"Sure, I have one right now," Toshiro smiles—Karin's cheeks turn pink slightly; she hoped—no, prayed—it involved him having feeling for her.

"Tell me," she insists.

"Okay, but you can't get mad."

"I won't, Toshiro. Just tell me."

He leans down to ear—his breath on her flesh; the soccer-players heart squeezes for his touch. "You stink right now," he whispers—Karin gawks and punches him playfully. "Hey! Hey! You said you wouldn't get mad!" Toshiro shouts as he dances around her car door to run.

"Well, I must've lied," she says as she closes the car-door and runs after the model.

She slides over her car-hood and scurries toward his Hummer—the singer locks the vehicle as she attempts opening the door. Finally giving up—she snickers and raises her car-keys—next to her keys was the extra-key to his Hummer.

"Shit," he mutters when the doors unlocks and a rush of air blows his locks.

"Oh the benefits of being your best-friend," Karin snickers—they exchanged keys for many reasons—first: if one of them lost their keys, the spare is always with the other—second: if they accidently lock themselves out of their car, the other has the keys—and many other reasons.

Toshiro looks over to the soccer-player with a raised brow. "If you hit me again, I will eat this sandwich in your face," he threats.

"You actually made me a sandwich?" she scoffs.

"Of course," Toshiro admits. "I know you have the shakes when you're finished practice and I don't need you passing out while we're dancing."

Instantly the soccer-player reaches over the singer and grabs the container in the passenger-seat. "Thank you," she innocently says—when she places a kiss on his cheek, the singer tenses and purses his lips together; he didn't expect that.

.

.

 _Why not?_

 _._

 _._

His strong hands grasp hers gently—the warmth and tender texture of her flesh felt right to the singer, but he'd never tell Karin.

As the music blares through the air, they move together—her hips sharp as the teacher instructed, and his close behind her—his eyes stare into hers; when she went to look down he would mutter: "She said to look at me—not your two left feet."

Suddenly the music stops and the two celebrities look over to the blonde French-woman in her black clothing.

"What're you doing?" the two groan for the French accent—the dance-teacher had been insisting them to get closer. "No—I say, get closer," the blonde woman repeats. "Dance!" the teacher says with passion and elegance "Is not just your bodies"—she moves her hips and feet in a sexy motion—"but your hearts" she stops.

Karin slaps the singers' chest when his eyes linger to the blondes butt. "Yeah, it's our heart not your hormones, Mr. Emoji," the singer snickers.

The teacher sighs as she walks over to the two-friends and pushes them together. "You two—must act like lovers," the blonde says—moving behind Karin she grabs her hips and thrusts her body into the singers. "You must feel him "—the soccer-player blushes; she most definitely felt _him_.

Toshiro looks down at the blushing Karin, amused for her shyness and their teacher's sexual-ways—his cocky grin vanishes when the teacher takes his hands. "No hands up here," the woman insists before directing them to Karin behind. "They stay here—you must touch her."

"Now! I, start music and you dance" the teacher exclaims.

"I never thought dancing would be so sexual," Karin whispers to the singer.

"Well you choose the right partner then," Toshiro grins—when the music starts up, they begin to move.

"Which reminds me—do you mind taming your sausage? I can feel it," Karin rebuts.

"It's not my fault," he whines.

"I don't care—fix it," Karin demands.

"What if I don—"his daring words end with a hiss, she had sharply moved her hips. " _That's_ not funny."

"Oh, it is," she laughs.

"Two can play that game," he threatens—she yelps when he slaps her ass with a cheeky grin.

"Toshiro!" she snaps.

"You know for a soccer-player you have a great ass."

"You're such a pervert," she growls.

As the two move over the hardwood—bickering—the teacher's eyes widen for the water on the floor. "S-Sto—"she tries but it was too late; the two fell. "Merde (shit)" the teacher curses.

Toshiro grunts for the light body on top of him—he looks down to see Karin shaking with laughter—her cheek pressed against his pectorals and body against his. Upon hearing her laugh, the singer began to chuckle—soon into a burst of laughter.

The soccer player looks up with a smile on her plush-lips, when her eyes lock with turquois, her laughter fades to silence, and a sudden urge to kiss the singer becomes present.

He places his large hand on her cheek and leans closer—

"You have connected as lovers! Good job! Good job!"—the two friends scatter from the other as the instructor claps and cheers. "Now, you lovers! Yes?"

Both look at the other with slight fear—Toshiro bit his lip softly.

" _Maybe Momo's right—maybe this isn't a sibling love…"_ he sighs with his thoughts. _"Perhaps, we do love each other more than we let on."_

" _Where's my control?! Dammit Karin!"_ the soccer-player kicks herself slightly.

Both were lost for words.

.

.

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* * *

Image of the chapter: Tokyo Bay.

Tell me what you thought about this chapter—seriously, I love to hear your thoughts.

Until next chapter

R&R


	3. Chapter 3

_~ Why not? ~ _

Her onyx-eyes watch as the bubbles foam the surface of the sea-like pool. On the bottom she can make-out the scuba-diver, the actor in a black-tux, an actress staring into the males eyes while her dress floats in the water—but the soccer-player sighs and looks over to the artificial reef, homed to many colorful fish.

When the scuba-diver's bubbles come to the surface and the two actors gasp for air, she pulls her knee's to her chest.

"Good work today," a sweet voice smiles to the two actors. "Someone get them some towels please," the woman orders.

Karin glances over to the assistant who comes running towards the actors climbing out of the pool.

"So, what exactly did you want me here for?" Karin asks the scuba-driver—a soaked water-proof camera is placed at the soccer-players side as the diver.

"Well Karin," the diver starts—pulling the wet-suit off her head, short raven-locks stick to her face, her pale as snow skin shimmers from the water. "I called you out here, but did you bring what I ordered?" she looks over to the soccer-player with her violet orbs.

Karin sighs as she points to the large window—the diver looks over and notices the tall-model with white hair. "As much as he hates cancelling his photoshoots, I managed to convince him," the soccer-player says.

"I thought so," the director snickers. "Toshiro is just like your brother sometimes—hot-headed, stubborn, and stupid but if he loves you enough, he'll drop everything for you," the diver explains; hands un-zipping the wet-suit and a smile on her lips.

"Rukia, why don't you just kick Ichi-nii into gear? He won't do anything unless you make it completely-obvious," Karin sighs—she loves her brother, but for a guy who's smart and successful, he is slow as hell.

Rukia ticks her teeth as she stands from the pool-edge; peeling off the wet-suit she chuckles. "We've talked about it," she tells her. "But in all honesty, I don't think I want to get married yet."

"What? You're almost thirty!" Karin exclaims.

"Um, no—I'm twenty-six," the director corrects as a group of workers swarm around her form—she nods to some of the women who grab the scuba-gear and then stops a man with bright-hair. "Make sure you edit everything correctly, Strawberry," Rukia pulls him closer to her lips.

"And if I don't?" he dares to question—bright amber eyes flickering with lust.

"I'll show you who's boss," the petite woman purrs.

Karin looks away from her brother and his— _thing—_ she didn't need to hear any of their little flirtatious ways. Plus it gave her the creeps when she thought about watching her brother make-out with his— _thing—_ in front of her. Heck, when they lived in the same house, she once walked in when he was showering—Karin didn't talk to him for a week because she was embarrassed.

When the soccer-player hears an aggressive moan from the direct, she closes her eyes and turns to the two. "I'm still here you horn-dogs!" the soccer-player yells.

"Sorry Karin," Ichigo says before placing a kiss on the directors' lips—he backs away quickly. "I'll see _you_ at home," he tells Rukia before vanishing into the group of workers.

"I'm opening my eyes now, so everything better be proper," Karin announces—she looks over to Rukia who raises a brow down at the athlete. "What?" she asks for the disappointing look.

"Nothing," the directors sighs—she knows all about the soccer-player and her _boyfriend_ , so there wasn't any real comeback she could give—knowing Karin, she most likely kisses Jinta once a year. "Grab Toshiro and meet me in the den," Rukia directs before walking-off to change.

The soccer-player sighs deeply as she stands from the pool edge and walks towards the two glass-doors.

At the moment, Rukia is filming another music-video for a pop-singer—Karin didn't know what the plot was for the video, but she figures it's about two-lovers since the two actors were told to kiss under the water.

The female-athlete shakes her head as she walks up a set of stairs to the second-floor, where Toshiro has been for since the scene started.

After their little moment in dance-class, the two—just Karin—have been keeping their distance. The soccer-player is afraid, afraid her lack of control would mess everything up. Even though the singer seemed completely fine with the (almost) kiss, she still didn't enjoy the fact she couldn't control her urges for Toshiro.

She wants to be with him but not now—he has a girlfriend, one he hasn't cheated on yet and Karin didn't want to be-little herself to becoming the side-hoe would destroys their relationship. If she allowed him to do that, then what would stop him from doing the same with her? Nothing!

It's enough Jinta cheats on her, but Toshiro? If he did, it would kill her inside—he's her best-friend, her first and only love, the peanut-butter to her jelly—cheating would be like placing the atomic-bomb inside of a nuclear-power-plant, sitting back and watching the atmosphere turn to dust.

"What are you thinking about?"—the sweet song of Toshiro's voice, makes Karin stop in her tracks and look-up to meet his brilliant eyes.

"How did you know?" she raises a brow.

He shoves his hands into his jean pockets and leans forward—his face close to hers'. "When in thought you tend to look down at the floor or off into space"—she groans for his observing traits and familiarity with her habits. "Also," his hand grabs hers which raising to her lips. "You tend to bite or chew the tips of your fingers when you're overthinking things."

"I'm not overthinking anything," she tries but the soccer-player knows the true—she is freaking-out over nothing.

"Don't lie to yourself," Toshiro smirks.

"How would you know if I was?" Karin sighs.

"I know you like a book—a picture book if anything," the singer chuckles; when he notices her fingers heading to her lips again, he grabs her hand. "Stop it, Karin," he nearly demands.

"Stop what?" the soccer-player confusedly asks.

Toshiro feels her hands attempting to be pulled from of his grasps—lifting her fingers to his eyes, he looks down at her tips and growls for the rough-flesh. "Biting the tips of your fingers," the singer snarls. "Look what you're doing."

"It's my body, Toshi," she rebuts.

"How about I make it mine, so you can't bite your fingers," he suggests.

"I'm flattered, Mr. Emoji," Karin rolls her orbs. "But, I'm not some side-hoe or groupie that will jump into your bed."

"Who said you'd be my side-hoe?" Toshiro raises a brow, eyes lock with hers.

The soccer-players heart sobs slightly—there was nothing that would change his ways—all the groupies, sex and hotels were enough to get to someone's head. _She's_ known this for the longest time and figures if anything happened with them, she would only end-up hurt and in deep-pain—but something inside her guides her heart back to him, even though her brain says: " _No! What the hell are you thinking?! He'll break you into a thousand pieces and crush every fiber of your heart! Be logical!"_

Call it crazy—maybe she is—perhaps all those years of rough-play with guys, her father's crazy-antics, the loudness of her family and all her injuries from soccer, has made Karin a complete nut-job.

"What will you do when you find the _one_?" she says without thinking—there's a slight regret in her throat for the question – she didn't understand but, for some reason she knew the answer was going to hurt her.

The singer looks away from her—he never thought about it—not that he didn't want a family or future with someone other than his career, but he's young and incredibly stupid when it comes to women—the only one he can understand is Karin.

If he met the _one_ —huh, such a fickle question. "Who knows?" Toshiro sighs—he runs his fingers over her raw tips and chews on his inner-cheeks. _'Is there such thing as "the one"?'_ he ponders.

.

.

 _Why not?_

 _._

 _._

Two white-leather couches—a glass table resting in the middle of the room—lite fireplace on the back-wall—a single white rug under the furniture to protect the Brazilian hardwood floors.

The den itself screams: expensive.

Karin looks around the den—worried she might ruin something or damage an item that would wipe her entire life's pay. She isn't afraid of her brother—he'd be totally fine with it—the soccer-player isn't afraid of Rukia; the woman is basically her third sister by now. Oh no, someone who's powerful and cold—the great Kuchiki Byakuya.

Kuchiki Byakuya is a man of many trades—he owns one of the biggest business industries in the world, the millionaire dabbles in film production, but it's merely a blessing from god if he wishes to direct a minute of a movie (he's brilliant), he's been in a handful of movies—all in which are still winning awards. There isn't one thing Byakuya isn't good at—expect handling his little sister's boyfriend/ _thing_ ; he couldn't stand Ichigo—not one tiny bit.

Toshiro notices the tense aura around Karin—it worries him, she never got nervous when around the two directors. "Something wrong?" he whispers and places a hand on hers. "You seem— _anxious_ ," he picks his words wisely, knowing the soccer-star is one-minute away from a heart-attack.

Just as Karin is about to speak, Rukia enters the room with a deep-sigh rolling off her tongue. "Aren't you two just the cutest thing," she coo's—Toshiro raises a brow and Karin blushes like a mad-woman—such reactions cause the petite woman to giggle like a school-girl.

Karin's onyx-eyes watch as the petite woman walks over to the other couch—tight blue-jeans, a white t-shirt and a classic necklace wrapped around her neck—she never took it off, ever since Ichigo bought her the chain and snowflake pendant.

The soccer-player would often wonder whether she would end-up like Rukia—forever in love with a single gift, but instead of a necklace she be in love with her best-friend forever. Knowing the soccer-player, she would be stuck in the same place forever.

"I have some amazing news for Karin, "Rukia's squeals pull the soccer-star out of her dramatic-romanced thoughts and to reality.

"W-What are you talking?"—upon hear Karin's puzzled question, the director fishes into her pocket and pulls out her phone.

"This," the petite woman states—phone screen blurring with the latest buzz in the press.

' _ **Soccer-star finds her Knight in shining armor,'**_ the first head-line read—an image of the two friends laying on the dance-class floor is plastered over the cover.

" _This isn't good…"_ Karin thinks as she scrolls down the different headlines—each becoming increasingly worse than the last. She had to admit, some of the headlines were clever and witty like: _**"Two Players in love"**_ —witty and clever.

"H-have you seen these Toshiro?" the soccer-player asks.

The play-boy model looks over her shoulder—his eyes nearly pop-out of his skull for the headlines and assumptions. _He_ knows Momo is going to be off her rocker.

Grabbing the phone from Karin's hands, the singer angrily scrolls down the headlines—eyes dancing with the different images throughout yesterday and the day before. "Shit!" he exclaims; arms thrown into the air and phone toss into the white couch cushions.

"Toshi, calm down," the soccer-player sighs—they have no-way of controlling the press; they were nothing but bait to feed the raging gossip-lovers in the country. Such truth left Karin rubbing the males back – his skin is hot in rage under her fingers but she doesn't allow his freakish temperature fright her.

"I'm _not_ going to calm the hell down!" he stands from the sofa and looks down at Karin.

The singer's mind is going at a hundred miles per-hour—if he wasn't with Momo he wouldn't give two-shit's about the press and their bullshit—heck, he'd even use the witty headlines to tease Karin. Sadly he's dating Momo—the obsessive, over-dramatic, controlling and enraging woman _he_ knows! Once she catches wind of all those headline—which she most likely has—the actress would become Godzilla, burning down all of Japan in a fit of rage.

Karin looks over her best-friend, unsure of what he's thinking—does he find displeasure in people think _they_ were an item? Is it because it with her and not some busty-beauty from another country?

"Toshiro, it's just the press," the soccer-player states.

"Karin, it's _not_ just the press," Toshiro growls—the soccer-player stands in confusion.

"So what? It's just you and I, on the cover of some magazine!" Karin rebuts. "It's nothing new—the only thing _new_ about these are the headlines and the witty-puns."

"Karin, what about _our_ relationships?" the question burns his tongue as he looks at the soccer-star. "Knowing Momo the _crazy-psycho_! She probably out there hiring a hit-man to kill you while you sleep!" he yells—Karin bows her head slightly.

"I can handle myself—"she tries.

"And what about fucking Jinta?! He's probably out there right now, waiting to cut-off my balls and make them into car-scents—"

"Why the fuck would Jinta care about the shit I do, when he's out there cheating on me with every god-damn girl on his film-set?!" Karin screams; lungs heavy and breath labor as she slumps onto the white-couch.

The soccer-player looks at her hands, they're shaking—not from lack of calories but from rage.

Toshiro is silent for the sudden news—never—in a million years—did he think, his best-friend would be cheated on. He always knew Karin as the type of girl who's easy to talk to, loyal beyond belief, reliable even when pissed-out and respected.

"Kar…" the model tries but the soccer-player sniffs and locks eyes with the director across the table.

"What's the news?" Karin questions—she was going through one of _those_ moments when she wanted to go home, and do as much ugly-crying as possible— _she_ needs to ugly-cry.

Rukia looks between the two and decides it's best to allow them to figure things out—she wouldn't tell Ichigo about his sister's boyfriends' cheating-ways; the petite director didn't want to visit him while he serves time for murder or man slaughter.

"After the headlines started blowing-up with you two, I got a call from an artist who asked to use you two in their music-video, " she tells them—leaning back into the couch she notices the shock-look in Toshiro's eyes.

"What's the concept of this video?" the singer questions.

Rukia sighs as she runs her fingers through her short-locks. "They don't want to do some over-used plot. According to their manager—they were thinking about allowing you two to be placed in different scenes together and letting it all play-out"—it's never been done before—winging-it: yes—but never in a music-video that would be shown all over the world. It's a risky move—one that drove the tiny-director to grasp the change and take it with full-force.

The director eagerly leans forward and looks over the two. "The song is about two best-friends"—both stars perk and look over to the other; it's literally the perfect for them—, "who fall in love," Rukia finishes.

Karin turns cheeks become crimson while her eyes linger over to Toshiro—his eyes closed as he thought about the idea—him and Karin, the girl he's known all his life, being in love in a video for the whole-world to see? For some reason it didn't bother him—if anything he some-what enjoys the idea.

"Also, since you two are run by managers—I needed to discuss it with you both before sending the contract to your managers," the director explains.

Rukia waits for the either star to speak, but both are silent which is a little unsettling—she knows she asking a lot—two (real) best-friends, filming together, falling in love on camera? It's a lot to ask of two friends, but the idea unique and touching to viewers—it would be a major hit.

Toshiro looks over to Karin—she's tense and quiet, such actions concern the pop-star. "I'll do it,"—the soccer-players head snaps forward in surprise—Toshiro's eyes lock with hers; _he_ knows she was thinking about him and how it would affect him in the end.

"You will?" Rukia squeals before looking over to Karin with a bright smile.

The soccer-player lays her eyes on the singer while he rubs the back of his neck softly. "What about Momo, Toshiro?" Karin questions—the actress would probably kill them both when she finds out.

"She should be fine," he sighs—eyes lingering to his best-friend. "I have a photoshoot with her tomorrow, so it shouldn't be too bad."

The photoshoot is for some magazine that's covering relationships in Toshiro's life—they interviewed everyone he knew, even his elderly granny and Karin's parents. He didn't understand what's important about his relationship with others—the model merely figured it's to keep all the fan-girls happy and squealing.

"Besides," Toshiro shrugs. "It'll be fun working with you—it's been years since we actually got to do something within the media together."

The soccer-star cracks a frail smile—she could recall their failed commercial for cereal. It was horrible—worse than horrid, more like atrocious. Even though the commercial was a joke, she and Toshiro had tones of fun – plus they got paid to spend time together, which is the best thing about it all.

"Fine, I'll sign the contract," the athelet sighs in defeat—a slight cheer came from Rukia as she dances on the sofa.

Toshiro shakes his head softly before placing a hand on Karin's head—she looks up to his bright eyes with innocence. "Ms. Nosepicker, it seems like we're back in production once again," he teases.

"Grade two, Toshiro! Grade two!" she scoffs—placing a hand on the singers' chest. "At least I wasn't the one who wet-the-bed until they were ten years old."

"I had very water filled dreams! That wasn't my fau—"he tries with a soft smile.

"Excuse, excuses!" the soccer-player interrupts. "Instead of Mr. Emoji, I should call you: Mr. Waterfall."

Toshiro grunts for the name and flicks her forehead. "Whatever, Karin," he whispers; placing a hand on her shoulder and sits down. "What time should I come over tonight?"

"What? When did I say you can come over—"she confusingly questions.

"I have a key to your house—I don't need an invitation," Toshiro says with pride. "How about eight?"

"Why eight?" Karin grumps—usually she'd be in bed with her little massage machines by eight. "We couldn't order pizza or take-out."

"True—how's six?"

"Perfect, I guess," Karin answers. "What are you even planning?"

"Easy—Jinta is an asshole that deserves to be pummeled into a puddle, but you and I both know, I would become someone's prison bitch within seconds of my entry," Toshiro jokes—the soccer-player snorts a laugh for the thought of the great Play-boy becoming someone's bitch. "So, tonight, I'll come over with Chinese, extra-buttered popcorn, horror movies and our high-school yearbook."

"You know sometimes I think you're too good for me, Toshi," she lays her head on his shoulder and inhales his signature scent. "I honestly, don't know what I'd do without you."

Brushing hair from her face he grins. "Probably die from boredom and become a whore."

"More or less," she whispers.

Rukia watches from the other couch—she was definitely going to have an easy-time with their music-video.

.

.

.

* * *

Image of the Chapter: two people underwater—one man and one woman.

Sorry for the long wait, I've been busy it seems, which sucks.

I have edited this- and before, I did say that it wasn't so, yeah- whatever.

Until next time!

R&R


	4. Chapter 4

_~ Why not? ~_

Panic—pure panic rolls through the studio.

"Have you reached her yet?" a frantic Rangiku hisses through her plush-lips—she's pissed off beyond words.

It's twenty-minutes into their photoshoot and Momo hasn't dared to arrive—such actions make the photographer livid. Rangiku figures the actress is pulling this shit because of the recent tabloid scandal, either that or she's sobbing about the media rooting for the soccer-player.

Yes, there were gossip channels debating Toshiro's relationships—there were many voting for Karin, which is a mere fluke—then there's the few voting for Momo.

"She's not answering my calls," Toshiro growls as he pulls his phone from his ear—the nagging voice-mail blurring through the speakers. "I've left her more than twelve voice-mails," the irritated star grunts.

Rangiku anxiously looks over the studio—all the models had the day-off so they'd only have the studio (requested from Momo)—and the busty woman couldn't do the shoot, she needed to take the pictures. "We can use one of the stylist!" she suggests.

"No," the singer instantly shots down—there is no-way he's going to appear in another magazine with a random stranger, especially when the article is about his relationships with others.

"Then who the fuck are we going—who're you texting?" the photographer stops with a raise brow.

The singer's fingers tap the screen rapidly as he grins with satisfaction. "Someone that I _can_ rely on," he simply answers as he places his phone down. "Now, just wait five minutes."

Rangiku stares with a suspicious expression—she didn't know what's up the singers sleeve, but she has a feeling it's something that's ingenious.

 _._

 _._

 _Why not?_

 _._

 _._

Her orbs linger over the darkening waves of water—in the distance the sun kissing the horizon good-night as dark cloud roll in from the east.

Leaning forward on the wooden dock, she grins—the sea-side view gave her peace, which is much needed since Toshiro's little prediction on her thinking-habits were correct.

Karin looks down at her finger-tips—the pinkish color has been aching since last-night from the popcorn and Chinese food the singer brought over—salt and skin didn't mix well. For most of the night she was hissing for the stringing sensation—there was even a point when Toshiro fed her so she wasn't in pain.

The boards squeak in the distance—the raven-haired beauty looks over with slightly wonder—the sight of a couple hand-in-hand washes over her eyes like the sea on the shore-line. The two smile and giggle like air-heads—Karin narrows her eyes at the sight of the two, but when the male kisses the woman, the soccer-player pouts.

She always hated couples like that—yet, she wants to have a relationship like that—envy's a cruel and twisted bitch (that's for sure).

Stuffing her hands into her sweater, Karin turns on her heels and starts towards her parked car—she stops when her phone buzzes in her pocket. Without hesitation she looks at the screen:

* * *

 _ **Toshi**_

* * *

 _EMERGENCY! I need your help right now—don't ask questions just come to the studio—Momo has gone crazy!_

* * *

Instantly her stomach clenches and she sprints to her car without thinking.

.

.

.

Back at the studio, Toshiro watches as the photographer paces the floor with worry—the many stylist attempting to comfort her, but only receive a curse word and threat.

He looks over to the door from his seat—it's been five-minutes and the person hasn't arrived yet—the singer is beginning to worry for the soccer-player; he knows she can be a crazy-driver.

A sigh crawls from his lips as he looks at his screen—when the sound of the large door opening and panting erupts the studio, all eyes snap to the arrival.

"Karin-Chan," the photographer mutters—the exhausted woman coughs as she leans over her knee's—from her breaths, it's easy to think she just ran a marathon.

"Wow"—Karin looks up for the familiar voice, when the sight of the singer (unharmed) comes into her view she nearly collapse. "You must've sprinted."

"…You son of a bitch!" Karin screams before tackling the singer to the ground—straddling his waist, she shakes him by the expensive shirt in frustration. "I just ran twenty blocks for you! I thought Momo finally became a murderer and was trying to kill you?!"—the group of studio workers smirk for the females concerns. "Then! I get here and your fucking fine!—I should make _you_ run a fucking mile in minutes, you asshole!"

Toshiro stares into her raging eyes—the flames of worry slowly vanishing and relieving water-works roll into bay. "K-Kar—, "he stops; the soccer-player leans forward and buries her face into his chest.

"…Don't scare me like that _ever_ again," she whispers into his shirt. "I thought I wouldn't make it—I thought I'd lose you," Karin concludes.

Rangiku watches as the model wraps his arms around Karin—the photographer knew worry; she worries for her husband all the time, especially since he's a police officer— _'just one day,'_ she would constantly think. Even though they've only been married for a few months, she still worries more than anything in the world—forget global warning, poverty, acid-rain and more—her husband's well-being is more important in her mind.

The busty woman snaps her fingers to one of the stylist—a woman instantly come running to the photographer side. "Get Karin ready," Rangiku whispers to the woman as her eyes look over the resting stylist. "I want her to look like a million-bucks."

"A-A million bucks? But that'll take a while," the woman panic's.

Rangiku raises a brow and points to a group of stylist. "So, you're telling me: there's over ten stylist here and together you can't make a million-dollar miracle happen within fifteen minutes?" Rangiku's tone darkens as she looks at the woman—with the amount of stylist in the studio it wouldn't take long to get a single person ready.

"We can do it," the stylist agrees—she looks over to the stars as they chat casually, but the stylist blushes when she notices Karin's still on top of the singer. "We'll start right now," the woman squeaks before heading towards the other stylist-members.

Rangiku snickers as the stylist flees. "Taichou!" the photographer shouts; Toshiro glares at the photographer for a moment. "I need you to stop flirting with my model!"—such words cause both parties to blush—"She needs to get ready!" Rangiku demands.

As Karin climbs off the singer and a herd of stylist come rushing to her side—pulling the soccer-star to her feet and pushing the woman towards a tone of mirrors, make-up tables and racks of clothing.

Toshiro watches the maul in guilty-shock—he knows she isn't a make-up, hair or (real) clothing person—heck if Karin could solemnly wear sweat-pants and baggy-shirts, she'd never complain. She been dressing like that since they were children, but once in the big-league's of soccer, her manager demanded she'd start wearing other clothing which includes: jeans, heels, dresses, skirts—it pushed Karin to her limit.

Even to this day, her clothing is nothing but jeans, shirts, sneakers, sweaters and sweat-pants—the only article of make-up in her house is mascara.

"She's going to look amazing," Rangiku nudges the singer—he looks over with a raise brow. "What? You don't think Karin can turn into a babe?"

"No it's not that," he simply answers—looking over to the mirrors, Toshiro gets a fluttering feeling as the soccer-player smiles and laughs for the brushes against her cheeks. "I just think she's"—the photographer's eyes widen when she notices the blush on the models cheeks—"pretty without all that stuff," he finishes.

"Taichou…" the busty woman mutters.

Toshiro shakes his head—trying to rid of his blush—and groans softly. "I feel bad for the stylist though—Karin acts more like a guy than a woman," he lies—the photographer becomes confused for his sudden statement.

"But—you just—I mean—what the fuck?" Rangiku says in confusion; when the male gives her a baffled but confuse look, she scoffs. "You just stated: Karin look's good without make-up, and then turned around and _completely_ went against that statement."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Toshiro lies—Rangiku grabs his arm when the model attempts to walk away from the conversation. "Rangiku what are yo—"

"You're in love with her, aren't you?" the photographer interrupts.

The singer tenses for sudden question—he never thought about it _that_ way—but either way, his heart stops slightly and jumps for the assumption which confuses the play-boy. "W-W-What?" he chokes.

Rangiku grins softly—his face shows the _look_ —the astonishing realization of his deep feeling for someone others than himself and other models— _the look of love_. "You're definitely in love with her," the photographer states.

"W-With who?" the model squeaks. "Karin?"

"No the Pope! Yes, Karin, idiot" she growls before dropping his arm.

"I'm not," he's quick to rebut.

"You can't lie about this, taichou," the busty-woman snaps. "You have the _look_ —"

"What the hell is the _'look'?_ " Toshiro hisses through his teeth—he hasn't heard of this _look_ , all he knows when it came to love—is the word, definition and symbolization.

The photographer looks away from the singer "Well…" she trails; the look he's giving her is enough to slaughter an army. "You're always smiling when around her, there's a twinkle in your eyes when talking to her, angry/sad when she leaves—"

"I get it, I get it," Toshiro groans—sadly, he knows she's right—that twinkle in his eye can be caught everyday he's with Karin, he couldn't stop himself from smiling when the tom-girl is around—he's tried (literally)—but Toshiro notices it most when she leaves his side—he becomes pissed at the person beckoning her and he feels empty—even though Rangiku claims it's _love_ , he still doesn't believe it is.

Rangiku sighs as she fiddles with the camera around her neck—she points the lens at the Karin—with a swift _snap_ she captures an image.

"I hate to say it, taichou, but I think you may have some trouble on your hands soon," the photographer grins—the image held: Karin wrapped in a white house-coat, long raven-locks loosely curled, make-up defining her beauty as she spoke to one of the stylist holding clothing.

"What are you babbling about now?" Toshiro glares over to the woman. "If it's some sexual joke—I'm not in the mood for it—"

"Not even if it's with Karin?" Rangiku pouts.

The model narrows his orbs before walking to his chair and flopping into the fabric marked with his name—he didn't want to think about it—actually he needed to think about it. He doesn't understand these feelings— _love—_ they call it. What the fuck does being in love feel like? He's asked many people before, like his manager, the photographer, his granny even Karin's folks—everyone has a different insights on love, so they weren't any help at all.

Now—he's famous, has a girlfriend who he doesn't really give a shit about from time-to-time, whenever he's alone his mind fills with thoughts for his best-friend—butterflies flutter in his stomach, his heart-races and much more – he just didn't want to think too much of it.

Then there was yesterday—" _What will you do when you find 'the one'? "_ —since she asked that damn question, his mind has been in knots. What is ' _the one'_? Someone who's struck with cupids-bow when you pass-by them on the sidewalk? Perhaps, their magical beings who crawl out of the ocean and come waltzing into your life—they take your heart and seduce you with sweet songs—such a description sounds like him.

Clicking comes from the floor behind the singer—he turns expecting the photographer but freezes suddenly. His breath sticks in his throat as his brilliant-orbs look over the woman.

"I look bad don't I?" Karin asks—her hands resting on the bright-floral pattern crop-top that's tight on her form—if she were to look down, she'd be welcome by her breast, which were larger than she thought. "Toshiro?" she leans forward—she can notice his eyes looking over her form and instantly her hands dart to the short lace-skirt the stylist forced her to wear.

"U-Uh—"Toshiro tries; he shakes his head to end his astonishment. "Y-You look beautiful," the singer admits with a dark-blush on his cheeks—Rangiku was right, he's in deep-trouble – especially if the soccer-star could look this good in a mere fifteen minutes with stylist. What would happen if they had an hour?

Karin's cheeks become crimson has she stares down at the floor—flattered for his kind words.

"Oh. My. God!" Rangiku's loud squeal makes both stars look over. "You look perfect!" the photographer claps—the busty woman walks around the soccer-player and then steps back slightly. "You two look like an absolute pair," she finishes before pushing Karin towards the singer.

The soccer-player stumbles, thanks to her lack of familiarity with heels—she falls into Toshiro's chest, when his arms wrap around her she tenses. "Rangiku! What the hell?!" the singer shouts.

The busty-flirt rolls her eyes before sending a thumbs-up to the stylist—she turns back to the pair. "Now, you two get in the middle of the set and pose," she demands.

Without hesitation, Toshiro grabs Karin's hand and guides her onto the set.

"Give me—sexy," the photographer shouts—the flash of the camera is enough to cause an epileptic seizure.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Karin shouts—arms crossed and eyes glaring at the singer who had pulled her body closer to his (way to close).

"I'm modeling," Toshiro bluntly response.

"How's _this_ "—she points to their connected bodies with a narrow eyes—"modeling, Mr. Emoji?"

"Karin, we were told to be sexy," he smirks as his hands snake from her back and continue lower, the singer moves closer until his nose brushes her. "Maybe _you_ just can't be sexy," Toshiro dares to push.

The soccer-player's eyes darken for the challenge. "You wanna bet on that?"

Toshiro grins evilly— _she_ fell right into his trap, just like he expected. "Oh yeah, I bet: you can't be as sexy as me," he admits.

Karin smirks— _she_ never really attempted to be sexy around him before, so the singer is in for a shock. "I bet"—she leans into his ear slowly, making sure she presses her assets against him—"I can seduce you and be sexier than you by the end of this photoshoot," she whispers seductively.

His bright-turquoise orbs flew open—nearly popping out of his head— _never_ has he heard such a… a…a deep and seductive tone from Karin. Don't get him wrong— _he_ likes it—loves it even; it's the biggest turn-on he's ever had—but it's shocking as hell. His best-friend— _Karin_ —just her voice in a deep, alluring and tempting tone, can make him leap with sexual-desires?

Right way the singer knew the ending of their little bet— _she's_ going to win.

"Something wrong, _Toshiro_?"—he bits his tongue for the sharp, aggressive, moaned (just a little bit) volume for his name—it makes him feel powerful, aroused beyond his imagination and nude.

She smirks when he tenses under her touch—lips grazing his ear slightly, eyes hooded—the soccer-players gaze isn't the main turn-on, but (surprisingly) her confidence. He could tell by her smile and eyes, that the soccer-player is completely comfortable in her skin—ultimately meaning: _he's_ done for.

.

.

 _Why not?_

 _._

 _._

Rattled—it's the only word that could merely describe how the singer felt right now. There's so many things racing through his mind— _his_ feeling: what the hell does he feel besides confused?— _many_ questions, especially about the word: _love_ —then there's _Karin:_ he never saw this coming—well, he always thought of her as _"one of the guys"_ , but after today, he _knows_ she's not just one-of-the-guys. The soccer-player is much, _much_ more—he hates to admit that the make-up, clothes and hair, made his realize how gorgeous _his_ best-friend _really_ is—but, it's the truth.

Even now—when the photoshoot has ended and they were saying: good-bye, he couldn't get her out of his head—it's like she cast a spell on him with her confidence and beauty, which is unsettling to the singer—he's never felt this way before.

"Thanks for day," he says; leaning into her car window, he looks into her onyx-eyes with a grin.

"Well," Karin starts—her throat clog with words—she wants to say _so_ much, but doesn't have the courage. "That's what I'm for—I mean, without Momo there, I'm practically the last woman you can call to—"

"That's not it," Toshiro stops her.

Karin tenses for the sudden interruption— _confuse_ but comfortable—"Then what is it?"

He didn't know—but he felt like he didn't just want to thank her for coming to his rescue. "You stepped out of your comfort-zone for me," he shockingly tells her. "I know it's weird, but today you really shocked me."

"You're my best-friend—of course I'll step out of my comfort-zone for you," Karin sheepishly admits— _'I love you, that's why I did it, idiot,'_ she really wants to say but doesn't.

Awkwardness settles on the two— _he_ still craving more from her— _she_ wishing to tell him the truth—but neither jumping the gun.

"You win," Toshrio suddenly states—Karin looks at him with question. "The competition that we made during the shoot."

She nods. "What do I get for winning?" Karin smiles.

"What do you want for being the winner?" he asks.

"I don't know…" Karin whispers as she leans closer, "What can you offer?"—he grins for her flirtatious question, he nudges her nose with his and tilts his head to the side—tempting to position himself for a kiss.

Karin's mind rambles together—should she go for the kiss? Is that considered cheating? Does it even matter? She and Jinta weren't really a _couple_ , if anything she's single for all she cares—but they never said they were _over_ , so they must still be an item—but then again, he's cheated on her more times than the actor could can recall—one kiss won't do anything, right?

"I…" her throat hitches as she looks into his bright miraculous eyes—she's adored those eyes for years and wanted nothing but those bright-sea's to look at her; now, they are. "…Kind of like… were this is going," she says—finally reaching a final decision.

"Good"—swiftly after his snickering comment, the singer captures the soccer-players lips—they're soft, plumbs and tender to the model.

The soccer-player's heart quickens as she felt his sweet, silky and exquisite lips on hers—she felt… _free_ for once in her life—this felt _right_.

A hand caresses her cheeks tenderly as the kiss deepens—eyes close and lips mash together—hands venturing into the soccer-players locks as he pleads for her to be closer. Toshiro is slightly shocked when the soccer-player bits his bottom lip—a request/action for entry—but in the end, he allows her inside.

Karin could feel the heat in her stomach rising throughout her body— _she_ wants more of _him_ , which is a little unnerving for the soccer-star—a kiss never felt… felt so superb; usually it was nothing but a chore—especially with Jinta—but with Toshiro – there were no words to how she felt.

Slowly he pulls away from her lips—she mules slightly, which brings the singer to give her a quick-kiss and steps back—lips flush from their contact and eyes clouded with lust; he didn't want to stop, but, all the emotions coursing throughout his mind for the soccer-player were clustering together into a giant-ball.

Toshiro bits his lip—eyes lock with Karin's as she examines his features—what have _they_ done?

"I better go," Karin shamefully states—the erupting sound of the car engine fill the singers ears, it sends a sharp pain into his chest as the soccer-star bows her head and reverses out of the parking space. "…Bye," she whispers before driving down the road.

Toshiro watches as her vehicle disappears down the lonesome street—he didn't know what got over him, but he _really_ didn't want her to leave—especially with that look on her face; the look of sorrow.

 _He_ hast to admit—he _might_ be in love with his _best-friend._

 _._

 _._

 _._

* * *

Image of the Chapter: a pier at sunset.

I want to apologize for the long wait—I'm currently waking up at 4 in the morning, just to get to school, which fucking sucks! So, when I get home and (finally) do homework, I'm exhausted and usually pass-out.

But, I haven't stopped writing this little dabble/story, it's getting there.

Tell me what you think! Honestly, I want to know what the hell you guys are thinking about the progress—is it bad? Is the story enjoyable for you?—to be honest, I have the feeling that even though I'm writing/saying this to you guys, most of you aren't going to read this and review—so, maybe I should save my breath and key-board.

But whatever—until next time.

 **R &R**


	5. Chapter 5

_~ Why not? ~_

The lingering scent of coffee fills the shop—friendly chatter echoes the singers ears as he waits—not for the soccer-player (he wishes it was), but for his crazy-psychotic girlfriend.

It's been three-days since his kiss with Karin, and he couldn't stop thinking about it—the way her lips felt on _his,_ the texture of her raven locks and the flavor of the soccer-star.

Toshiro would say, he hasn't contacted the athlete but, they've been chatting away for those three-days. Even though _he_ thought it would be completely awkward, it isn't—not the slightest—if anything, they were closer than before.

His bright turquoise orbs look over the shop; many customers recognize him but, none have dared to approach the singer—it's one of things he dislikes about fame: _he's_ seen as a threating person—which is utter bullshit.

Toshiro sighs as he stares at a familiar image: a waterfall flowing over a low hill of rocks, crystal water with roots sprouting from the sandy bottom, the large tree in the foreground with bright-red leaves for fall weather. He knows the landscape well—this is his and Karin's _favorite_ coffee-shop—they used to come here every-day after work, but stopped once their lives became busy.

A chirp comes from the glass door—when a cashier welcomes her new-customer, the woman bows her head slightly and walks towards the singer.

Toshiro looks away from the picture and to Momo as she sits in the chair across from him—she's smiling happily— _glowing_ even, but it's give the singer a slight ache in his stomach— _she_ did ask him to meet here.

His gut instinct ends when the actress places three magazines on the table— _all_ three covers held Toshiro and Karin—the first: the soccer-player and the model laughing at the photoshoot—second: the singer and soccer-player together at a Chinese restaurant ordering take-out—third: the kiss.

Momo must be pissed—pissed doesn't even remotely cover her livid fury—but _he_ knows he's in for an earful.

"Aren't you going to say something, Shiro?" the actress hisses under her breath—no, there's nothing to say: he kissed his best-friend and liked every part of it. "No?" she raises a brow—yes, he isn't going to say shit, so, get to his lecture.

"What's there _to_ say?" Toshiro grunts—he knows exactly _where_ she's hoping to go with this—she's going to think _he_ and Karin slept together, because the cover held both the singer and soccer-star kissing. " _That's_ not cheating," he blankly states.

" _What?_ "The actress hisses through her teeth; she grabs the magazine and pushes the cover into his tan-face. " _This_ "—she points to the image—" _is_ cheating."

" _That's_ kissing," he insists—there's no way he'd actually allow her to get away with this. "I and Karin, _never_ slept together," he growls.

Momo narrows her brown-orbs—furious with his attitude and the nagging sensation in her heart that's screaming the truth: _she's_ the one who's unfaithful—but, it doesn't hurt (not a bit).

The model notices when the fires in the actress's eyes dim—she sits on the coffee-seat and grins softly. "Remember the first time we slept together?" her tone changes from angry to sweet, like she's off in her whole little world. "We practically stumbled into bed and instantly got to it," she chuckles softly.

"Where's this leading to?" Toshiro impatiently asks.

Her fingers grace her neck softly. "You made me feel _love_ —special, as my mother would've said—but once seeing Karin was the biggest-factor in your life, I knew I was just a piece of ass," the actress could still remember that moment; how Karin instantly made the singers eyes light with love and they never physical touched—it was only a matter of time till the two best-friend became more, which frightened the actress to the core—leading her to insecurity—ultimately to cheating. "But I _finally_ found someone who could make me feel _loved_ all the time."

"Are you saying that Karin lead you to cheat on me?" the singer nearly laughs—such bullshit seems unexplainable in his eyes—yes he's cheated before, but that's because he didn't care for his reputation or the woman, he was just horny and wanting sex at the moment—and with status, sex is nothing but another snap of the fingers.

"No, no," the actress sighs as she grabs her purse. "She made me realize that you never cared for me—you love her, not me—which lead me to find someone who actually makes me feel special."

The model's eyes look over to the pink-phone vibrating the table—they both know it's the man the actress is talking about. "I wish you the best," Toshiro sighs as he stands and hands her the device. "I hope he makes you happy."

Momo nods softly—when the model went to leave, she grabs his arm swiftly. "As a woman, I think it's best for you tell Karin your feelings sooner rather than later."

He grins down to the ground. "I've been thinking about that for sometimes now…" he starts—the actress leans in forward slightly. "But, it may not be time for that right now—I mean, she has Jinta—"

"Like that ever stopped you," Momo snickers with the magazines in hand. "I think _you_ just need to collect your balls and ask her out"—she leans into his ear—"or, just fuck her until she's yours—you're good at that too."

Toshiro shakes off her comments. "I think…" he starts; when he notices his manager's car outside the shop, he tenses. "Aizen?" he blinks.

Momo jumps and looks out the window, with a friendly wave and smile she tells the manager to wait.

"You _cheated_ on me with my fucking manager?" Toshiro throws his arms into the air and shakes his head. "You know what Momo!" he shouts as he grips the coffee-shop door. "I should've fucked Karin's brains-out, because clearly my managers been doing that to you for the last few months!"

The glass-door slams shut as the singer storms down the sidewalk, leaving Momo silent as customers stare at her with wide-eyes—she felt bad, worse than bad but horrid—never did she mean to hurt the pop-star like that, but she couldn't resist his manager and her jealous/paranoid ways were becoming worse throughout time—she needed to end things with him, even if it lead to this.

Regardless of Toshiro's aching heart, the actress knows he'll be happier this way—now he can think with a clear-mind and relationship-status—hopefully it would help him gather his courage and finally climb-out of the friend-zone.

.

.

 _Why not?_

 _._

 _._

Looking up to the large-house, she sighs—not for the weeping man inside but for the heavy box in her arms—she never thought it'd be this heavy.

The blaring nineties music, told the soccer-player two things—Toshiro has finally realized the nineties was the prime-time for music, and he's in a lot of pain—hence meaning: he wasn't going to open his front-door.

Her keys rattles as she places the box on her knee—trying to keep it balance she fiddles with the lock and turns the knob; the door opens, allowing the music to shake the outside-world.

Wobbling inside, she kicks the door shut and places the box on the counter—Karin isn't shocked by the endless empty bottles and take-out containers on the marble surface, it's his signature break-up trademark—get drunk, eat anything to everything in the fridge, sit in his room with a bottle of vodka while listening to music loud enough to have him arrested.

This times is different though and the soccer-player knows it—it wasn't because of the nineties music or the mixture of scattered papers on the floor—but the missing phone-call; he hadn't called/texted her about the break-up, she felt a twist in her stomach and the mad tweeter-war that's killing her phone, that this wasn't any regular break-up.

She runs upstairs, leaving the box on the container and heads to the singers' bedroom—the booming music becomes deafening as she comes to the shaking door.

Karin opens the wood-vibrating frame without calling-out; when she looks over to the bed, there lies her best-friend—wrapped under his sheets sipping on a bottle of vodka and staring at the photo.

The soccer-star marches over and leaps onto the singer—he groans and looks over with his glossy eyes, shocked but relieved she's here—Karin leans her head into his shoulder and stares at the image in his fingers.

"That's the day, you and I went to nationals for soccer in grade-school," she states—the image of short and younger versions of themselves cover her mind: Toshiro smiling brightly with a few teeth missing as Karin rides on his back with the winning soccer-ball above her head. "That's the exact day, you inspired me to become a professional soccer-player."

"Nah," he slurs before turning down the music. "You would've done it without me—"

"No I wouldn't have," she interrupts. "If it weren't for you waking-up at the ass-crack of dawn, forcing healthy meals down my throat throughout college and cheering me on at every game, I would never be where I am today," the soccer-player admits.

Toshiro raises a brow. "So basically—that amazing ass of yours' is mine."

"In your dreams, Mr. Emoji," Karin grins.

"Does it count if I popped out of my closet and screamed: 'Welcome to Narnia' at the top of my lungs?" he says while snuggling up to the athlete.

"You have to be sleeping to dream," Karin rebuts.

"But Narnia is my dreamland—and you said: that I own your ass in my dreams, meaning: if I went to Narnia I would own your ass," he points.

Karin shakes her head. "Enough about my ass—want to tell me what happened?"

"No" he instantly answers.

"Why not?" she sighs.

"It's not important—"he tries.

"To you it may not be important, but to me _it_ is", Karin interrupts.

"I'm still not telling you," Toshiro rolls away from the soccer-star.

"Even if I brought three watermelons for you to smash and eat in the backyard?"

The singer stops—eyes wide and snapped towards Karin—once hearing the mention of watermelon he could feel his pulse quickening and his mouth watering for the fruit. "Did you bring me watermelon?"

"Watermelon candy, alcohol, cake, cupcakes and more," Karin lists—finger poking the singers' cheek.

"Have I ever told you that I love you," he slurs—the soccer-player tense as blush creeps onto her cheeks.

"No—no, you've _never_ said that," Karin squeaks—the model smirks drunkenly before sighing heavily—the soccer-play figures he's only saying this because he's drunk-off-his-ass.

The room goes silent as the two-friend's lay on the bed—the wandering scent of guzzled booze and sweet melodies of _'Walk on Sunshine'_ blurs through the speakers.

"I can't believe you have this song," Karin groans into his blanket-wrapped body.

"I thought I got rid of it," he grunts.

"Clearly you didn't," she snaps.

"The irony is uncanny for this moment," Toshiro snickers—Karin doesn't dare to respond, just buries herself into the white-sheets until she shakes the singer.

"Come on!" Karin exclaims; standing from the bed, shoving the model off the bed and onto the floor. "We have watermelons to smash in the backyard!"

.

.

.

Cringing sounds of a wooden-ball smashing through the hard surface—grunts escape the doers lips as sweat trickles down his brow—it's only the first watermelon and the singer's nearly exhausted.

Karin watches as she sits on the decks edge—his firm back towards her, white locks blurred in each motion strike of the watermelon, strong arms burning and his sweet noises in her ear—when Toshiro leans down and picks up two large pieces of the shattered fruit, she looks away and sighs.

"Here," he offers the smaller piece before sitting next to the soccer-player.

Karin's onyx-eyes watches as the model buries his mouth into the flesh-like fruit—his eyes widen for the sweet taste as a smile form on his lips. "Good, huh?" she nudges; he nods in agreement. "Good. I got them at the local food-market—apparently the farmer was growing watermelon in his greenhouse and there were too many for him to eat; hence, he decided to sell them," she explains.

After practice and scrolling through the tweeter frenzy, Karin had went straight to the farmer's market without a second thought. Thankfully before they left Karakura Town, Toshiro's grandmother—a kindle old lady—had taught the soccer-player how to pick out the best water-melon; according to the elderly woman: the perfect watermelons were the easiest routes to her grandson's heart.

By now Karin knows that's a lie—if it were true, she and Toshiro would have been married a _long_ time ago.

"She cheated on me"—Karin stops for the sudden news and looks over to the singer; his eyes are off in the distance, cheeks glossy from the sweet fruit juice and hands tight on the green-peel.

"That explains a lot," the soccer play sighs—handing over her piece of watermelon to Toshiro. "Momo was being quite _paranoid_ for the last few months," she states.

Toshiro is silent—he never saw it coming—he thought that by dating a _"good-girl"_ he could focus on fixing his cheating-ways, have a supporter and someone who he could trust (besides Karin). "I—I never—"

"No one does, Toshi"—Toshiro glances over to the soccer-star, she seems off in her little sad world—probably thinking about Jinta and his cheating ways. "—we just have to live with it sometimes, even if it hurts like a bitch."

The two were silent—Karin scoots over to the singer, lays her head on his shoulder and closes her eyes—when Toshiro follows suit and lays his head on-top of hers', she smiles slightly. "What do we do about it?" he whispers.

"There's nothing we _can_ do," the woman answers—she would've gotten back at Jinta— but becoming a cheater meant losing her self-respect, telling the tabloid's would tell other's she couldn't handle her own issues, and knowing her family, they'd become apes for the news. "Exepct be there for each other," she simply says; looking up to the male she catches his eyes.

"You know—your family, my granny and you, are the only people who haven't hurt me," Toshiro chuckles before tossing the green-skin into the grass. His long fingers wrap around the glass-bottle of flavored vodka sitting at the side, and brings it straight to his lips. "It's pretty bad when I think about it," he grunts for the burn-sensation in his throat.

"I'm positive there's more people that haven't hurt you," Karin rebuts; snatching the bottle from his hands as swirls the captured liquor. "There's your fans—they love you to death; I'm pretty sure some of them have your face tattooed on their bodies," she chuckles; taking a gulp of the vodka she gives it back to the weeping-star.

"They don't know _me_ ," he growls—standing from the steps he takes the second watermelon and places it on the tarp. "Besides…" he trails with the bat in hand—ready to smash the fruit with his anger—"Now my manager's fucking my girlfriend—" he stops suddenly and growls under his breath—" my ex-girlfriend," he corrects.

"Aizen?" she leans forward in shock.

"Yup!" he shouts while rubbing the old-pieces of watermelon from the bat.

"You sure?"

"Positive."

"How do you know?"

"Simple," he looks over and places the bat on his shoulder. "He was there to pick her up after she dumped me—they made eye-contact and everything."

"That doesn't mean anything!" Karin rebuts.

"Oh it does—especially when Momo went on and on, about someone making her feel _special_ —also, she gave him her signature smile," he lists.

Karin flinches for the news and the loud shattering noise from the watermelon as the bat breaks the shell—his bicep's and triceps ripple in the quick motions as the red-flesh flies through the air.

His heart rages with frustration— _he_ didn't understand—how could a woman like Momo, one who was possessive and bitter towards his best-friend, get under his skin like this? On many different occasions he attempted (full-heartedly) that he didn't have strong feelings towards the actress, but now, after she cheated on him with _his_ own manager, he couldn't get her out of his mind. Toshiro really wants the bun-headed psychopath out of his _fucking_ mind—but she's still there!

Even with all the watermelon around he couldn't forget the betrayal, which made the singer think for a short-period of time—was this how all his exes felt?

As the bat came crashing down once more, it's grabbed by a pale slender hand—Toshiro stares at the fingers and sighs heavily—he nearly forgot Karin's presence within all his anger and hatred.

When the wooden-bat is pulled from his grasp, her body came crashing into his—at first he's shocked but after a moment and the feeling of the soccer-stars hands gripping his back, he accepts the hug and wraps his arms around Karin.

As the model buries his nose into Karin's raven locks, his thoughts about Momo and Aizen slip-away from his mind— _she_ becomes his only thought— _he_ could only think about the kiss, the way her lips felt on his and the passion which began to burn inside his heart; new emotions which confused him but felt right.

"It'll be okay," Karin whispers into his shirt—due to the height difference it's the only thing she could look at without craning her neck, but she doesn't mind, it helps her hide the blush that sometimes comes to her cheeks or the blissful moments she inhales his husky scent.

Her fingers play with the tiny-hairs on the back of the singers' neck as his breath envelopes her neck—when Toshiro's grip on the soccer-players body tightens—her cheeks heat with a deep blush.

They may seems normal to the other, but inside their feelings are stirred and slowly being discovered.

.

.

.

* * *

Image of the Chapter: the painting in the café shop—water fall, tiny lake, tree's around the wooded area and roots growing in the tiny pooled area.

Sorry about the wait, but since I'm (nearly) done all my classes for the year and summer is coming around, I should be on schedule for updating every day! Yay!

Also, it seems like my last prediction was correct—no one reviewed except for Hollybear! Thank you for the review!

Anyways, I'm off to bed or whatever I'm going to do—who the hell knows! For those who follow: Sakurai Ai and the Bucket List—both stories will be updated this week, maybe even tomorrow (I don't know).

Until next chapter!


	6. Chapter 6

_~ Why not? ~_

Numb— _completely_ numb to the touch—the singer is grouchy for his terrible hangover, slightly upset about Momo (still), nauseous thanks to _all_ the alcohol he drank last night, tired from his late night, and now his ass is numb.

The dark framed sun-glasses rest on the bridge of his nose to keep the sun from irritating his red-orbs, but it didn't really matter until now since the sun's rising from its' slumber. The purples, pinks and oranges tint the sky as the misty coat comes to the shore with the salty-waters; rocks break the fresh waves of liquid under his feet—it's refreshing but cold to the model.

Why's he at the beach? Especially this early in the morning—it's a simple answer, one _he_ didn't know whether it's stupid or supportive—but Toshiro is here for Karin.

The soccer-star didn't drag him from his sleep—actually she tried to leave without him, but the model was too slick—that and she's incredibly bad at getting out of bed silently—which shows her experiences with one-nightstands.

Either way, Toshiro forced himself to be here to support his _best-friends'_ first appearance in a music-video. There was no-way in hell he'd miss this—especially since he figured no one would be here for her.

Yes, Rukia and Ichigo would be here, but they're working not supporting the soccer-player.

Jinta—there's no need to mention him, he just made Toshiro pissed out of his mind—plus, if the red-head couldn't make it to _one_ (not all—just one) of Karin's soccer-games, why the fuck would he come to her first music-video appearance? Simple, he isn't coming—they both know that for a fact.

"It seems like you're Karin's little groupie now"—the singer narrows his eyes for the voice—he knows who it is and he didn't need the nagging this morning, especially with his hangover.

"Fuck off Ichigo," Toshiro bluntly orders; looking over to the editor he groans—the bright mop of orange hair on the man's head made his headache worse. "You've got no place to talk—you're Rukia's bitch no-matter what she does."

Ichigo rolls his amber eyes before shoving his hands into his jean-pockets. "If I were you, I wouldn't be talking"—Toshiro raises a brow toward the editor as he looks down at a magazine, "You just got your ass dumped."

"Let me see that," the singer snaps—grabbing the magazine from Ichigo's palms he looks over the cover: it's Momo and himself sitting at the coffee-shop, at the sides were tweets from the event and then a picture of the soccer-player and the singer in his backyard hugging. "I should sue the damn press for stalking and harassment!"

"Oi! That's my only copy!" Ichigo shouts as Toshiro goes to throw the booklet into the ocean—he snatches the newsletter in his palms and brings it to his chest. " _We_ need this dammit!" the editor screams at the star.

"Why the hell for?!" Toshiro snaps. "To rub it in my face or something!"

"No, I and Rukia are using all the covers of you and my sister for the best-friend video, you moron!"—the singer tenses for the reminder; he totally forgot about their music-video they're shooting in a week or two. "Not everything is about you, especially when it comes to the press."

"Where's this coming for?" Toshiro asks softly.

"Read page twenty-three," Ichigo orders, pushing the magazine into the singers' chest.

The model flips through the pages until arriving at the correct article—the image of Yuzu walking next to Jinta blurs his vision—they weren't holding hands or kissing, just walking casually on the streets of Hong Kong (where Jinta was shooting last).

" _ **Up-rising fame from the Kurosaki siblings and new appearance around the media,"**_ read the first line—the writer went-on about Karin's newest appearances in media: talk-show's that were to be expected this week, her role in a music-video's, the soccer-players occurring images in the media with Toshiro, and some secret soccer-news for the trade-offs' in at the end of the month.

Toshiro froze when he reads about Yuzu—the youngest Kurosaki twin had several careers— _she_ could be considered the Byakuya Kuchiki of the Kurosaki family. She went to school for design, culinary-skills, modeling, cosmetics and photography. Funny because Toshiro and Karin used to ask her where she was going next semester—plus they'd joke about the young-famous-threat getting together with the Kuchiki genius. Now, her long list of professions is adding the next career: acting.

Yuzu's coming to Tokyo for the rest of the year to shoot the next big movie series: "The fatal truth," which is supposed to be about a young female detective who one-day runs into a mysterious man who works in forensic studying the strange-deaths of several college students.

"Damn," Toshiro chuckles, "Seems like the women in the Kurosaki family got all the talent."

Ichigo gives a charming smirk—he would rebut and say he has many talents but the editor's just as thrilled for his sisters than the next person. "Well, I can't exactly deny that," the proud brother states.

Toshiro places the magazine on casting chair. "Let's just hope when—if you and Rukia reproduce, that you have a girl," the singer snickers.

"If that were to _ever_ happen, we'd have to film and edit a Grammy-winning movie," Ichigo jokes; he knows his fathers' debut for putting all his children through school—thanks to all their success, each child paid off their schooling bills and more.

"You never know, shit happens all the time," the singer groans. "Besides, you two could be the parents of the next best director—you both have the same genetics' as Yuzu and Byakuya"—Ichigo tenses for the remark as the singer brought a bottle of water to his lips.

"Enough about me; what about you?"

"What about me?" Toshiro questions.

"The tabloids have been all over you and Karin being a thing."

"They've always been like that."

"No, no"—Ichigo waves his finger in the air—"they're definitely worse this time around. They only follow celebrates who've got them a real story for the public day-and-night."

"You make it seem like you've been a part of the press," Toshiro snarls.

"What do you think I did to pay-off my apartment during college?" Ichigo raises a brow. "That's how I and Rukia got _really_ close."

"You stalked her brother and then her?" Toshiro snorts. "That's one fucked up story for the future children."

"Shut-up," Ichigo growls—looking at the horizon the editor bits his lip; he knows his sisters feelings for her best-friend but he'd never tell the singer, its' Karin's job not her brothers. "Toshiro"—the said man looks over with a tighten jaw, the serious tone for the bright-headed brother gave him the chills—"don't break my sisters heart when you finally reach the end of all these headlines, articles and punctual bullshit."

Toshiro doesn't flinch for the threatening tone coming from the male—he understand where the older brother is heading with his over-protective side, it's one of the main reasons the singer didn't want to fall in love with Karin—he cares for the soccer-player too much, if he were to _ever_ harm Karin… he… he wouldn't be able to forgive himself.

When he thought about it—being in a relationship with Karin, it seemed perfect, he'd have everything: someone who'd be his best-friend, knew him for _him_ and not a famous-singer who could seduce a crowd of hormonal teenage girls with a single note, Karin wouldn't be with him for money, fame or his looks—heck she's seen him when all his teeth were missing.

The idea of being with Karin had nothing but good things—or so he believed at first.

After hours of thinking about everything, the singer was about to call the woman whose been on his mind, that's when it hit him— _he_ wouldn't be good for her. What's good about him? The press has already made his cheating-ways public, the model's known for his flings with other women, Toshiro's been known as cold-hearted to other (from time-to-time)—Karin doesn't deserve that; she should have someone who wouldn't worry her every second on whether he's out cheating again.

"If I ever were to hurt Karin…" Ichigo looks over to the younger-male as he speaks, "I don't think I could forgive myself."

Once everything is said, both males were silent as the loud shouts of Rukia echo the beach—screaming for the set to be ready, ordering the stylist to hurry-up with Karin and the American-singer, she even shouted at the sun to keep at the horizon for her filming.

Even though the loud barks of the petite woman were covering the beach, Ichigo thought about Toshiro's issue—he too went through the same stage with Rukia—even now he goes through the contemplation of his worthiness of the Kuchiki woman's hand, it's one of his main reasons for not proposing to her yet. Ichigo many thing: rude, loud, stubborn—the list could go on for days—but, there's one thing that he couldn't deny or change: he loves Rukia with all his heart and soul; but the fact he's all those other things gets to him now-and-then.

"Ichigo!" the two males flinch for Rukia's scream—both look over to see Rukia with her hands firmly placed on her tiny hips, violet eyes staring at the editor with frustration and short-locks swirling in the breeze. "Let's get this video started, berry," she demands with a swift hand beckoning the tall-male.

As Ichigo flees from Toshiro's side, his eyes stick on the person standing next to furious director—Karin.

" _That singers a lucky bastard,"_ Toshiro's thoughts growl—Karin struts over, her long raven-locks swaying with her step—the singer bits his lip as his eyes travel down her long shimmering legs, toned from hours of soccer, glossy because of the stylists obsession with lotion when it comes to the beach.

Licking his lips he tries to look away from Karin, but her brightly-colored bikini: blues and greens, highlighting her figure, kept his eyes on her. Toshiro's eyes couldn't help but trail-up, stopping at the tight bottoms that shaping her firm behind—such thick cheeks makes the play-boy model step back for the urges in his hands—he wants to touch her, feel everything and make the soccer-star _his_ , but he couldn't—no, he shouldn't.

Her breast bounce in their massive size, they seem bigger in the strapless matching top hugging her torso—the valley of her muscle bring his eyes to the two balls of flesh and her strong collarbone. His vision bolts to her neck—her long, pale and silky neck; Toshiro's thoughts ramble with the thought of kissing each inch and turning such perfect flesh pink with love-bits. The singer wants to hear that throat moan, groan and yell his name—such lewd thoughts don't occur for Toshiro much, not even when he tends to hook-up with a prostitute or stripper—this is _new_ to him.

Unconsciously Toshiro steps forward—he craves to remove the nude-colored lipstick from her luscious, plumb and full-lips—but it wasn't only her wondrous lips, but her misty-grey eyes that make-up has brighten and transform her orbs into dazzling diamonds.

"Wow…" Toshiro whispers as Karin's feet come to a halt in front of him; when his fingers caress her cheek as he grins. "I guess make-up really can change a person."

"Is that your way of saying: I'm beautiful?" Karin pushes Toshiro; turning slightly she smirks. "It's a shitty way of saying so, Toshi."

He chuckles quietly: "If I flatter you too much, I might have to take you on a date."

"Where would you take me?" Karin suddenly asks—Toshiro jumps slightly, he never thought she would ask him something so bold, but the shock doesn't last long—it is Karin after all.

"Drive-in movie, picnic—made by me—and ice-cream with a little stroll in the park"—Karin smiles for the suggestion; it's funny to her because he's never taken any of his ex-girlfriends on a date like that…something so casual.

"That's a first," she raises a brow. "Usually you dazzle your dates with sparkling diamond champagne," it was his regular date for girls he was sleeping with—dazzle them with the best dinner and alcohol that his fame could get him, then take her home to his bed—the next morning he'd either decide whether to date the woman or make her another one nightstand.

"You've seen all my dirt, there's no champagne in the world that can make you forget that," he teases. "Plus, at the time I would like to try something new."

Karin cracks a grin, preparing a witty comment—"Karin! Toshiro! Enough flirting; the sun is about to come-up and I still need my first shot!" Rukia barks—the two looks down to the sand with embarrassment.

"Got it!" the soccer-player shouts with a thumbs-up; turning back to Toshiro she shrugs. "I'll see you after we're done shooting."

He nods as she runs past him and into the water—shouting for the chilling temperature but soon getting used to liquid.

"Alright!" Rukia yells to the crew—her camera ready as the soccer-star gets deeper into the ocean. "Ready and—move Toshiro!"

The singer runs to the back of the directors' camera where the rest of her crew were watching. "And action!"

Karin dives under the water as a man dressed in jeans and a un-button t-shirt walks by; he stops when Karin stands from the ocean and flips her hair through the air—it's the classic opening for a hot-chick in a music-video.

Toshiro growls when the singer takes off his expensive sun-glasses and checks out the raven-beauty slowly walking out of the water as the sun awakes—the American's gaze on Karin didn't sit well with Toshiro, it's like someone was look at something that he owns—wait, no! He doesn't own Karin, they're just friends, right?

.

.

 _Why not?_

 _._

 _._

Later that day, the two friends went out for lunch—a tiny diner they used to eat at when in college; it's run-down, nearly empty and has old waitresses but the food's to die for.

A burst of laughter comes from the soccer-player while she twists the large straw in her vanilla-milkshake—eyes directly on Toshiro as he cracks a genuine smile—the same smile that makes her heart race and eyes spark with admiration— _she_ adores his smile.

"Okay, okay!" she laughs; cheeks hot from her amusement. "It was _that_ bad, "Karin admits.

"I still can't believe you face planted in front of that guy," the singer claps—after the water scene, Karin had to walk hand-in-hand with the singer, but ended-up tripping over her own two-feet and falling flat on her face. "Then—then you nearly lost your bikini top!" Toshiro laughs uncontrollably.

"Shut-up!" Karin kicks his leg under the table; her tone holds a slightly giggle. "At let I wasn't the one who got bitched at by Rukia," after the soccer-players little tumble, the mini-director screamed at Toshiro for laughing on her set since it was getting into her film, which made more editing for Ichigo.

"For a petite woman she's scary," Toshiro chuckles as he takes a long-sip from Karin's straw—he smirks for the plain flavor and looks at his chocolate milkshake; earlier the soccer-star had offered him a sip, he was now taking the offer. "I wish I choose the vanilla," he sighs.

Karin plucks the cherry from the whipped-cream and sucks the white substance from the red—he watches while nibbling on his bottom-lip lustfully—such a simple action shouldn't be getting him all riled-up.

Swiftly the soccer-player pulls the straw from the empty chocolate milkshake glass and sucks the access liquid from the plastic-tube—when she places the straw in the vanilla she looks at her best-friend with a grin. "Would you like to double straw with me, Mr. Emoji?"

Toshiro leans forward, taking the straw between his thin-lips and sucks the white-liquid into his mouth—Karin giggles before following his lead.

A sudden urge awakes from the beach—the same one that lead him to kissing the soccer-player after their photoshoot. Maybe it's the way lips curve over the straw, the swell in her cheeks for the liquid or the water-proof make-up still on her face—either way, he wants to kiss the raven-haired woman across the booth.

The straw pops out of Karin's lips when she notices the heated stare from Toshiro—it was like he was stripping her with his brilliant eyes—such heat makes her lick her lips and lean in closer to the model.

As their lips came closer, breathes tickling the other's cheeks and eyes fluttering shut—the waitresses watch with a blush on their cheeks, expecting the two to share a passionate kiss, when a buzzing fills the diner.

They both pull back, shocked for their sudden urges—Karin looks down at her phone as it rang violently; she doesn't give Toshiro an awkward aura but stands from the booth, leans down to his ear and whispers: "I'll be right back, it might be my manager."

He nods, she quickly scurries to a little nook near the washrooms.

Alone, Toshiro sighs—he almost didn't it again. The singer's starting to wonder whether he could control himself with her around, it seems whenever he gets this urge in his stomach, he can't handle his emotions, which worries him the most.

He leans back into the red-leather seat and stares at the stained ceiling-tiles—he could hear Karin talking to someone on the other-line, when he hears something about a radio-show he knows it's her manager.

The singer looks over to the woman on the phone—her shorts tight to her bottom and the loose flowing peach-shirt on her torso—even in a simple but girlish outfit, she's beautiful in his eyes.

He couldn't deny it anymore—this feeling inside his chest, the one that screams for Karin—it's taken over the constant thoughts of Momo and replaced it completely with his best-friend.

Toshiro has fallen in love with Karin.

.

.

.

* * *

Image of the Chapter: the sun rising in the background as fog rolls over rocks on the sea-side.

I have read all the reviews from you guys and want to thank everyone who's taken the time to write one.

korohoshi, Guest and Aizen—thank you for reviewing and I hope to hear from you all again.

Until next chapter!


	7. Chapter 7

_~ Why not? ~_

" _Welcome back my kittens, you're listening to Neko Radio,"_ the loud seductive voice booms through the office speakers—he couldn't escape the radio-hosts voice, it's everywhere in the station. Not that Toshiro minds the show; he's actually a huge-fan of Neko Radio, hosted by the one-and-only Shihouin Yoruichi.

Toshiro had to admit, the cat-loving woman had a keen voice and personality for the radio—so far she's made the radio-show bigger than YouTube; most (all) of Tokyo listens to the show. For a star to be requested onto the show, it's nearly a privilege. So yesterday, when Karin got the invitation, _he_ made sure he's here.

It's not his first-time at the studio—he's been invited every year, just to talk about his _"next-move",_ even when he didn't have any moves planned or in mind.

" _I've got a little guest kittens!"_ the singer smiles; his eyes glued to the picture in his hands: a woman and her son in black-and-white smiling happily into the camera—the woman's probably the employee who works in this office.

They shoved the model into the office only for the first few minutes of the interview. Apparently Yoruichi needed to work Karin into the interview, which seems reasonable since it's' Karin's first major radio-show.

" _She's known for her moves on the field, but lately she's been making her femininity shine in the public's eye,"_ Yoruichi's flirtatiously introduces.

Toshiro places the frame back onto the wooden-desk, leaning onto the desk-top he looks towards the ceiling. _"You've probably seen her with the handsome play-boy hunk, Histugaya Toshiro and she's known as the singer's childhood best-friend. If you haven't already guessed who I'm talking about, you might want to pull the hell over and introduce my guest: Kurosaki Karin"_ —the door opens to the office and a woman with long-blonde hair waves at Toshiro. He nods and walks over to the woman—he recognizes her from the photo.

" _Hi, it's great to be here—thank you for inviting me,"_ the singer smirks for Karin's voice—she sounds nervous and scared, but no one else would know that.

" _So, Karin, it seems like you can't keep yourself out of the tabloid lately,"_ Yoruichi winks through the mic—Toshiro groans for the remark, the tabloid needed to take a hike—even today he and Karin were on the front cover of some magazine.

The model rounds the corner as the heels of the blonde-woman click on the tile-flooring, her pencil-skirt swaying as she holds a clip-board to her chest. He looks around the white walls of the radio station, there's a hint of cat images hung from hooks and lonesome tables with a seated plant—it wasn't much, but definitely not what you'd expect from such a popular radio-station.

When they turn a final corner, Toshiro's eyes land on Karin as she sits at a large deck with a busty-woman with flowing purple hair pulled back into a ponytail, her tanned skin is like chocolate but her bright amber eyes seemed to look through anyone's soul.

Yoruichi is one intimidating woman, but she's the kindest person you could meet—as long as you don't cross her.

.

.

Inside the recording area, Karin's eyes stare at the black-microphone in front of her—she's seen radio-shows done before, thanks to Toshiro, but never did she think she'd be on one. No one really enjoys hearing about athletes and their life since the public thought it was boring and unnecessary.

So far the interview wasn't too bad; Yoruichi questioned her about the future for her career—Karin didn't know much on what was to happen, but as time passes she was willing to keep-up with the punches. That was the only question she could really remember, the rest was nothing but a blur of normality's for talk-shows.

Until now—"Have you found _the one_?" Yoruichi leans closer to the soccer-star; Karin tense for the answer.

"What'd you mean?" Karin squeaks—her eyes wonder over to Toshiro who's looking at her through the plastic window, curious for her answer.

"The one: as in, the man you can see yourself with forever—or at least in the future"—Karin knew what the woman's asking, she just needed time to think about it since Toshiro could see everything and hear all her answers—there's no-way, that after years of keeping her love for him a secret, would she let him find out on a radio-show. "So, have you found Mr. Right?"

"Uh, well…"Karin blushes—she wants to just blurt-out that it's Toshiro but doesn't have the courage. "It's simple for me to say that I've found him—I found him a long time ago actually, and each day I go on thinking it's nothing but a fluke. He's everything to me but a lover or partner—he's more of my partner in crime—but I think that, even if I told him my feelings it wouldn't work out."

The host leans back into her seat, her eyes bolt over to the singer bowing his head through the window—his aura seemed depressed. "What's he like?"

Yoruichi notices the sparkle in the soccer-players eyes as she thought about her _love_ —it's the same sparkle that makes the cat-lover cringe; she too had the _sparkle_ once—a long ass time ago, when she was a college student.

It's the look of _completely_ being in love—sadly, Yoruichi was for one man she couldn't have—a professor, a young-one too. She fell head-over-heels for the young-man, and so did he for her. They dated in secret so the school wouldn't know, never exchanging numbers or emails just to keep it on the down-low. By the end of her college-life, they planned to meet-up and start dating like normal people, but they never traded contact information. So, when the next year rolled in, her lover was gone.

"He's witty, smart—very smart, daring, considerate, his smile is the best smile I've ever seen, he's a notorious flirt, stubborn since he can put-up with me, a total nerd when he's alone, sensitive and kind-hearted, loyal but trustworthy," Karin answers—each word could be explained with a friendly memory of her and Toshiro throughout their friendship.

"If this mystery man is _so_ great, then why wouldn't the relationship work-out?"

Toshiro is still for the question—eyes on Karin, waiting for her reply—he didn't understand—who the hell is this guy she speaks of? Does he know him by any chance? He knows it's not Jinta because he's none of those things. Either way the singer is jealous—he's never really felt jealous before, but from his acting classes, modern television, the dictionary, books and Karin—he knows _this_ is jealousy.

Jealousy—it feels like a cold-hand climbing up your back, tapping your shoulder and whispering the _"what-ifs"_ in your ear. Ultimately awakening rage, sorrow and paranoia—but the worst thing jealousy brings is _definitely_ stupidity.

He's never felt this before, but he concludes his assumption once his hands on the studio knob—turning; he doesn't wait for the commercials or the next song, but seems to magically appear at the door without recognition he opens the frame.

Karin jumps for the bang the door makes - thanks to the sticky-frame—looking over her shoulder she stares at her best-friend and the dark hues of blue around his eyes— _she_ knows Toshiro's pissed just from his orbs, there's no questioning it.

Pulling the headphones down to her neck, the soccer-player turns in the black-leather chair—her lips open but another voice is heard: "We have a special _surprise_ guest!"—it's Yoruichi saving her show and improvising. "It's one of my beloved guests and Karin's known best-friend, Histugaya Toshiro."

It took less than a second for the radio-crew to have Toshiro seated next to Karin, in headphones and a microphone placed in front of him.

He stares at Karin with question—she stares at him with confusion—nearly seem to be seeing eye-to-eye at the moment.

"Karin, tell us the reasoning your inactive with your _one-and-only_ ," Yoruichi tries to get them back on schedule.

The soccer-player breaks her stare with the singer—she's a little pissed-off inside but relaxed with his presence. "Um… well…" she trails awkwardly.

"This is definitely the first time _ever_ , I've seen you without words," Toshiro snaps—Yoruichi snickers for the sudden comment, she would've never known such things about the athlete. "Here's a better question: who the heck is this _mystery-man_?"

Karin narrows her eyes for his deep growl—he's testing her—"Why the heck do you care so much, Toshiro?"

"Now, now, no fig—, "the radio-host tries.

"Stay out of this!" they both say in sync; the cat-lover rolls away from the two and her microphone, knowing her place at the moment.

"Why shouldn't I care, Karin?" Toshiro coolly replies.

"It's _my_ life— _my_ love life to be extremely blunt," the soccer-star snaps.

"You've always had a say in my love-li—"

"Oh yeah! I definitely went on _Tinder_ and picked out Momo, and the rest of your kooky exes," the sarcasm stunk the room—even Yoruichi couldn't help but smirk for the soccer-players sly remark.

"Really? You had to bring Momo into this? I never mentioned your failure of a boyfriend!" the singer growls.

"He's better than some psychotic freak!" Karin stood from her seat, hands on the table and eyes glaring deep into the singer's soul.

"At least she didn't cheat on me with a whole casting crew!" he rebuts with a hasty fist on the table-top, vibrating the surface for the radio-host.

"Oh that's just low for you!" Karin shouts with a hint of sadness for the truth. "H-How…How could you?"

Quickly the singer notices what he's said—from the look in the soccer-players eyes he could tell _he_ went too far. "K-Karin—"

"You're such a jerk!"—tossing the headphones into her seat Karin turns sharply and runs out of the studio, tears falling down her cheeks.

Toshiro tries to bring himself to chase the soccer-player but doesn't—he just stares down at the floor, headphones draped around his neck—why did he have to be so jealous?

"Well, that wraps-up our interview—stay tuned for next week when I bring back Karin and Toshiro for another. Up next is your hit-list favorites," Yoruichi says; from the booth the DJ nods and gives a signal to tell her they were off-air.

The room is silent—even though Toshiro could still hear his out-burst.

.

.

 _Why not?_

.

.

Calves burning as the wet sand sticks to the bottom of her sneakers—shoulders shifting from side-to-side while attempting to control her breathing; her lungs burn like hot amber coals.

The bright white full-moon glistens over the rolling sea as she comes to a slow stop whilst loud annoying beeps echo the air, marking her limit for the day.

Gasping for air she walks to a large rock point to the sea—the smooth surface is cold on her bottom even though she wore caprices tonight.

Leaning back, her palms flatten on the mineral allowing the moonlight to illustrate her sweat covered chest as sparkling diamonds. "You look extremely _hot_ in the moonlight," a sudden voice says from behind her, the woman doesn't flinches—she knew the stranger has been there the entire time, since she called them for a ride home.

"I was born to be a moon-bathing siren," the runner chuckles.

The mysterious woman sits down next to the runner, hands shoved into her pockets and green-hair tied back into a high-ponytail, her tanned skin and brilliant amber eyes look over to the runner. "I went through hell to get here."

"Why? Is Grimmejow being a little whiney bitch again?" the runner questions; the green-haired woman gives the runner a joking-glance. "Nel, you and I both know he's a little bitch when it comes to you leaving."

"It's just because he love me," Nel says; pulling her knee's to her chest she looks over to the exhausted woman. "But, he wasn't pissed about that," she starts, immediately the runners attention is on her. "Someone was blowing-up my phone looking for you."

"Who?" the runner replies with a slight hint of hope in her voice.

"Who do you think, Karin?" Nel sighs "He knows you come to me when it comes to _girl_ - _troubles—_ he's worried sick and last I spoke to him he seemed like he was nearly in tears."

Karin is silent as she looks down at her phone screen—messages upon messages from Toshiro cover her home-screen—calls and voicemails overflow until there was no more room for voicemails—then there's two messages from Jinta, both seem like he's extremely pissed about what happened today on the radio-show, probably since the press knows he's a cheater.

At the moment, the soccer-star _really_ wants to toss her device into the ocean and vanish from the face of the planet— _she_ knows there's going to be tabloids covering this tomorrow— _they_ were going to be on the front-cover like it's been for the last few weeks. She could see it now: _**"Lovers casted quarrel and cheating boyfriend,"**_ something along the line of that. Either way the public is going to assume Toshiro is the mystery guy—they're completely right.

"I know you love him a lot, and that the main reason you're still with Jinta," Nel states with her eyes on the starry-night. "But Karin, now it's time for you to stop being afraid of the what-if's and finally tell him—it's either now or never."

Karin understands what she's saying, but it seems like it'll never work—yes in her mind she knows' it'll be nothing less than perfect, but when she thinks of something that could go wrong she couldn't handle it—especially the fact she's at risk of being traded to another team next month.

"If I tell him now and get traded, then there's no-point in anything Nel," Karin locks eyes with the other woman. "I know Toshiro—he worked _so_ hard for his fame, it would be devastating for him to throw that all away just to be with a girl."

Nel frowns for the truth—fame is hard to come-by, especially with the popularity that Toshiro stumbled upon at a young-age (it's rare). Even though his fame is important, so is his happiness—the fan-girls would be livid for his departure from music but, both Karin and Toshiro deserve to be happy—fan-girls would have to take a hike.

"Are you saying this for the fan-girls sake or to keep your love for him a secret?" Nel asks—Karin tenses; _she_ afraid of both.

Teenage girls _literally_ love Toshiro, if she were to rip him away from those girls—she could see her death which involves glitter, over-played boy-bands, red lipstick and feathers; she doesn't know how they'd do it, but the soccer-players confident her death will be painful.

Then there's the haunting fact of her _secret_ love—lately she doesn't know whether it's much of a secret anymore. It seems like everyone knows about her love for Toshiro—Yoruichi seemed to know as well. From her eyes, it seems as though everyone knows of her love expect for Toshiro himself. How dense can one guy be?

She still can't understand why she's like this with her best-friend—Karin's always been able to tell him anything—they went as far as telling each other when they hit puberty for the first time. It's not the best-story, but it involves Toshiro gathering the courage to venture into through the school-hallways with pads/tampons, into the girls-washroom and looking for his best-friend.

If Karin could go into that territory with Toshiro… it should be nothing to tell him her feelings, right? Heck, she told her first-boyfriend face-to-face at soccer practice with everyone around—Karin has guts—just not when it comes to Toshiro.

Nel shifts herself off the rock capturing the soccer-players attention. "I'm not driving you home," she sudden states; hands in her pockets and heading towards her car.

"What? Why?" Karin rolls off the rock and goes to grab her team-mate. "Nel!"

"I'll see you at practice tomorrow," Nel waves before looking over to the white-hummer parking in the distance.

"Why won't you take me home?" Karin pleads—Nel stop and looks over to the soccer-star. "Why doesn't anything work-out the way I want to?" she cracks. "First it's Jinta—I thought that asshole would've helped me get over Toshiro, but _he_ made it worse. Then the idea of being in a music-video seemed like a new and brighter branch on life, so I could get out there like my sister—but now I hate it—all the make-up is irritating, there's too much hairspray, I'm barely dressed—"

"Karin," Nel interrupts—she's never seen the soccer-player so confused and broken. "If that's how you feel why're you doing all this stuff?"

"I don't know—, "she lies.

"You _do_ know Karin, I want you to say it," Nel demands.

"I can't—"

"Fucking do it!"

Karin stiffs for the sudden shout—it's the same voice her coach uses during their games, especially when things aren't going the way they were supposed to.

Nel steps forward and bits her lip. "How're you supposed to tell him anything, when you can't even say it to me?"

Karin bows her head in shame—hands clench to her side she bits her lip roughly while trembling. "I-I did it all… because, I wanted him to see me as a girl," she shakes and stampers. "Instead… of one of the guys"—her heartaches for the realization.

"You love him a lot, huh?" Nel presses her lips together.

Karin chuckles cruelly before moving her hair behind her ear—"More than anything."

Nel sighs and hugs the soccer-player. "You need to tell him that—also, I'm not driving you home still."

"Why not?" Karin whispers while pulling away from Nel busty-chest.

Nel points behind her and steps back with a bounce, "Because _he_ is."

Karin's eyes widen for the male on the hill—dark-jeans, black wife-beater cladding to his abs and army-green jacket—his appearance makes her heart-race, especially for his white-locks blowing in the breeze. The rapid rise-and-fall of his chest, tells Karin: he nearly sprinted to this area or to find her.

Instantly she felt like running away—Karin couldn't see _him_ right now; she's too venerable.

Toshiro slides down the sandy slope towards the soccer-player—from her stance, he knew she was going to try and run away. "Don't run away!" he snaps—"Please, I'm begging you Karin!" he pleads.

"I don't want to talk to you" she states—he's taken back slightly but shakes her statement off once she attempts to run again.

He tackles the soccer-player to the damp-sand—hands wrapped around her waist and knee's buried into the tiny minerals— _he's_ not going to let her go, not this time around. "Get off me Toshiro!" Karin screams; banging her fists against him. "Let me go!"

"No!" Toshiro snaps—pinning the soccer-player against the sand, he holds her wrist in place—breathe heavy as he looks into her grey-orbs. "I won't let you go Karin, you know why? It's because I can't live without you in my life— _you're my best-friend_ —my other half, and I need you," Toshiro says, his bright-eyes shining into hers.

"Get—, "she tries.

"I'm sorry—I'm sorry that I got jealous and acted-out. I'm sorry that when it comes to you, I feel obligated to protect you and give you the _damn_ world. I'm sorry for wanting to be around you all the time and seeing all your firsts'. I'm sorry—, "he's silenced with two lips pressed against his.

Each _apology_ that came from his lips made her heart-race and body ache for him—somehow, even now when she's utterly-pissed at him, he could make her fall deeper in love with him.

The singer's shocked but relieved—her perfect lips were enough to drag him into a deep-passionate trance—his rough-hand releases her slim wrist, instantly sliding down her arms and to her cheek where they cup her perfect flesh.

As the kiss deepens, her arms wrap around his torso to pull him closer—the weight of his chest teases hers' as they ravish each other's mouth with hungry gasps— _both_ wanting more.

She felt it—not a bulge that always appears with his quick-bitches—but the true emotion within his lips, they told her everything: his reasons for jealousy, the panic that sets-in once she's gone, his comfortable aura with her and the desire to concur her strong-well.

Once deep and passionate, now bubbles with soft glee, "Is that your way of telling me"—the singer begins with a soft smile; he lays a gentle quick-kiss on her kiss before continuing: "to shut-up?"

"No," Karin grins slightly. "I've got other ways to do that"—once the answer whisks from her lips he captures them once again.

From a distance Nel bites her lip for the sight: both stars rolling in the sand, lips locked and daring each other to become bolder than the other—when she saw Karin sit-up and the singer follow, Nel knows where _this_ may lead.

Karin stands on her knee's—towering down on the singer—a smile on her lips as she looks into his bright eyes and kisses him once again.

Nel grips her stirring-wheel tightly for the best-friends—she figures it's a spur of the moment, but either way, it wasn't right nor is it wrong. Karin deserves to be happy with the one she loves—Nel knows and understand that—but _this scene_ is in the public, the press would eat it up (if they aren't around at the moment).

It's not safe—they're not safe right now, but a love like that… it's nothing but waiting to be spoken and accepted.

Nel could smell the storm rolling in.

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* * *

Image of the Chapter: a picture in black and white of a mother and son.

I would like to thank everyone who reviewed, I greatly appreciate all your comments and love them! So, thank you: korohoshi, Miko873 and Lil Scarlett. I hope to hear from you guys again!

I hope you enjoyed the chapter! I've got good news—I am no longer a high-school student; I've finished all my exams and have all the free-time in the world, until I get my job for the summer.

Until next time tell me what you think!

R&R


	8. Chapter 8

_~ Why not? ~_

Bright, vibrant and tiny—water is an amazing thing.

Steam envelopes the bathroom—hot and sticky. The roaring echoes of the water pouring from the shower-head—like a thunder-storm, the water cracks the porcelain-tub and hits his legs sharply; the male doesn't mind, it's refreshing (slightly).

His wet hair covers his strong jaw as the rivers of hot-water drizzle down his skin—his lips part as he thinking about the raven-haired beauty, Karin.

He couldn't stop thinking about her—not for the news or what happened the other day, just astonished by how long it's taken her to get to this point.

"I'm coming to join you since you're taking too long,"—he smirks for the voice and the kinky reminders of last-night enter his mind.

When the _squeak_ of the door-opening enters—steam rolls into the hallways as the nude woman walks into the tiled bathroom—slowly pinning her hair up to keep it from getting wet, but in truth _he_ knows it's going to get wet.

He smirks into the blue and green rippling through the water-droplets as she opens the shower-door and steps inside—his eyes linger to her long-model like legs that are peach, when he reaches her perfect-curved bottom he grins with recollection of his hands firmly grasping the two heaps of flesh. Once he goes to grab the two cheeks, a slap cracks against his tanned fingers.

"Playing hard to get is nothing but a turn-on for me," he cheekily states—a gasp comes from her lips as he swiftly wraps his arms around her waist, pulling into his stark-body—his lips scatter kisses over her soft skin. "You're noises are _so_ sexy," he purrs like a cat.

She cracks a guilty giggle through a half-hearted moan that covers the bathroom—when she turns around with her sandy-locks her lips crash onto his. "Oh, I can be even sexier than that," she tells him; fingers dragging over his chest. "But, I've got to get to the airport in time for my flight."

"You could just come back with me," he grunts while rubbing himself against her flesh.

"No—, "her voice hitches inside her throat as he lifts her into his arms and furiously rubs her woman-hood. "Jinta…" The goddess whimpers; hands on his shoulder. "Stop it," the model pleads—pushing the red-head away she looks into his brown eyes. "We can't—"

"Why not?" he dares. "I can take you to Tokyo from here."

She's unsettled by his aggressive behavior, he's never been like this with her—usually his voice is warm and kind, but something seems to have him on edge. "What happened?"

"Nothing," he quickly answers—turning into the water, the woman turns him around and looks into her lover's eyes.

"Don't lie to me—you can't do it," her voice is firm as she tell him. "What happened last night? What made you jump onto your plane and fly all the way to Hong Kong to see me?"

Jinta is silent— _she'S_ right, there's something wrong—it's Karin, not just the whole Toshiro tabloids-thing, but the fact she was on a radio-show yapping about some _mystery-man_ —it makes him look bad, especially since the play-boy best-friend of hers' went and told the world: he's a cheater.

"Stuff went down on Neko Radio yesterday," he breaks—the woman's brown eyes flung open for the news.

"Did Karin finally tell Toshiro her feelings?"—he shakes his head as a response.

"No, but he got jealous over her _'mysterious one and only'_ " Jinta sighs—he couldn't blame the singer though, he too got a little jealous, but Jinta was more pissed-off than jealous—probably because he doesn't really _love_ Karin, he knows he's nothing but a decoy for the public.

"I saw this coming," the woman slyly chuckles.

"What should I do?" Jinta asks—she's always been someone he could come to, even if it's for the worse of things.

She's silent as she thought about it—throughout his time in Hong Kong, they've been sleeping together—dating if you wanted to tell the truth. It's gotten serious lately—he'd call, text even visit her nearly every-day. Once he went back to Tokyo, the actor was going to tell Karin about his love for the woman—he believes _she's_ his one and only, but once he brought-up the fact of his cheating ways the soccer-player broke-down. From that point in time, Jinta knew _this_ would kill Karin.

"Tell her," she finally answers—Jinta flinches for the sudden answer.

"What? We can't—, "he tries.

"Why _can't_ we?" she interrupts with mad-eyes. "I'm moving to Tokyo in a few hours, we can't hide this anymore, Jinta."

"It _will_ kill her inside,"—she tenses for the thought.

"But…" she starts, brown eyes and full-lips in his direction, "I know as her sister, that it'll hurt her more if she found out on her own."

 _._

 _._

 _Why not?_

 _._

 _._

"How about pale-blue?" a deep voice questions.

"No," an innocent chuckle replies. "Definitely not."

Waving off her remarks, he fluffs the blue jacket and poses in the mirror. "Why not?" he looks over to the raven-haired woman, "I think this is the _best_ color on me."

"No—, "she snorts; leaning forward with her hands clasp over her mouth. "—it's the _worst_ color on you."

He strikes another pose—one arms stretched into the air, both legs parted as his other-hand is on his hip—he looks like a knock-off version of Austin Powers, but hotter and less glorified by the eighties.

"What say, you, we go out on the town and swing, baby? Yeah!" he mimics with a witty grin—she laughs amusingly and shakes her head for his performance.

"No more, Toshiro," she gasps—the singer continues with his funky and _groovy_ moves, nearly causing the soccer-star to turn purple with laughter. "No more Austin Power, please, I beg of you."

He stops, hands on his hips and a clever white-brow raise for her pleas: "I know it's a turn on for you," he winks with charm.

"God no!" Karin exclaims while rising from the black-leather couch inside the tux-shop. "I don't get all _hot-and-sweaty_ for some perverted, hairy, over-dramatic and sex-crazed eighties character,"—he snickers for her reassurance as her hands fix the white collar of the suit.

"Then… Karin," he trails—her attention is caught and her fingers rest on his warm tanned neck. "What does turn you _on_?"

She bites her lips and looks up to the ceiling in a pondering state—she's never really been _"turned-on"_ by something, well she's never really been with someone that could do that (per-say). But, if she were to think about her sexual-preference she'd have to say: "It's a _special_ look."

"A look?" the singer repeated—she nods. "That's _so_ easy—"

"No it's not," Karin interrupts. "This look isn't just any look—it _the_ look."

"Care to explain? Since I'm _completely_ negligent to this _look_ you're talking about."

Karin cracks a smile and leans back from the male. " _The look_ —it's powerful, really, _really_ powerful—"

"An example of this power would be…?"

"Oprah," she quickly answers—he gasps for her reply.

"I must learn this look," he jokes.

Rolling her eyes she places a hand on the heap of his neck. "Alright—now do you think I can continue explaining?"

"Okay, okay, sorry" he apologizes. "Please continue."

"Fine," she chuckles before looking into his bright-eyes. "Well, _the look_ , basically it's edgy, passionate, sexy and can make a woman feel naked"—Toshiro's brow shoot up for the explanation. "It's a real turn-on."

"I can tell," Toshiro quickly grins. "Has someone given you this look before?"

"No," she sighs. "I'm waiting for that special someone to finally learn the look."

"Well damn," Toshiro admits—the only times he's heard about Karin actually having sex with men is because she's either drunk, pressured or bored. The soccer-stars never been with someone she wanted to sleep with (truly). "So," he fluffs the suit once more. "Shouldn't we get this suit?"

"No way" she replies before pushing the singer towards the changing-rooms. "There's not a chance I'm going to a celebrate ball with you dressed in a tacky-blue suit."

"Fine!" he chuckles. "Can I at least have one more Austin Power reference, before I take off this suit?"

The soccer-star smirks and breaks into a soft laugh. "Hit me with your best shot."

"She's the village bicycle! Everyone's had a ride!" Toshiro says with a pathetic-accent.

"Ooooh! Burn!" she shouts before flopping onto the leather couch—the store-clerks look over to the couple and stare.

"Oi! Don't worry baby, they're just jealous," he winks towards Karin—she bursts into a laughter before throwing a tie at the singer.

"Go get changed already," Karin demands with a smile.

"Come on, you have to admit: the suits growing to your liking, right?"

"No, no it's not."

"You ruin all the fun," he groans.

"No, I'm making sure your designer, fan-girls and reputation aren't ruined," Karin lists.

"They'd _love_ the look."

Karin scoff for the remark—she knows it's true, well for the fan-girls—they'd love it if Toshiro were to appear nude in public. "Either you pick another suit or go dateless," the soccer-star threatens.

"So it's a date now, huh?" Toshiro shoves his hands into the blue-pockets as he leans towards the soccer-player. "If I play my cards right on that night, could I get into those panties I fetch _so_ often?"

"Uh no, I don't cheat," Karin rebuts; folding her arms over her chest. "Anyways, you going to put Austin-fail-Power's away or will you go to the ball without me, where Momo will be with _your_ manager?"

He chews on his cheek before entering the black curtain—he didn't want to go alone, especially because Momo and Aizen were going to be there—it's the main-reason he asked Karin to join him.

Why the soccer-play?

He wanted her to go because _he's_ a notorious show-off—he didn't have the pride or balls to go and see Momo all over her _new-toy_ without having someone on his arm. God forbid if he showed up with one of his signature one nightstand bitches—he needed a person who'd make the actresses skin crawl and stomach burn; he wants to make Momo jealous or just royally pissed-off.

Even though he doesn't really care about Momo and his manager, he's still pissed and betrayed—and with a woman like Karin (one who looked like a super-model when dressed up) at his side, there's no-way Momo wouldn't look at them. Heck, they'll have all eyes on them when they enter the room.

But the main reason he wants Karin as a date, is to actually spend a _romantic_ night with her, even if it doesn't mean having sex or getting to second-base. He just wants to eat dinner with the soccer-star, laugh, and dance and walk her home—something that's foreign to the play-boy model.

After last night on the beach, he's been thinking about things—he really does have feeling for his best-friend, they were clearly noticeable through the kiss—he put _all_ his emotions into that kiss, not experience—no that wouldn't get him far with someone like Karin—but his heart—that kiss on the beach felt like it was his first. It scared the living-shit out of him—how could someone make him feel that way?

Toshiro's back presses against the change-room wall, eyes asserted to the ceiling as a sigh spills from his lips—a hand rubs the back of his neck before pulling off the open white-blouse.

He couldn't believe he's doing this—he's actually attempting to get with Karin, but she's a hard nut to crack—it's nearly impossible for him. All his classic tricks didn't work with the soccer-player, they're only seen as jokes and flirtatious teasing.

The black fabric ruffles as it loops over his strong arms—the singer is silent—silently thinking over his _plan_ ; he needs one to get the foxy-woman outside. He'd use his classic trademark pick-up lines and treatments, but he already knows it won't work on Karin—she'd make a witty-joke and insult his efforts—he needs something _real._

Should he confess his feelings? No—no that wouldn't work—Karin has Jinta and even though he's a lying, numb-skulled baboons-ass, Toshiro can't just blurt out: _I'm in love with you_ , it doesn't work—it's not _his_ style or fitted-personality.

Such complicating conflicts brought the singer to a conclusion: he'd have to woo Karin through her biggest dreams and wants—Toshiro had to become her _dream-guy_ , which didn't seem difficult at first since he knew all her secrets and desires for her _"perfect"_ man.

Toshiro can recall her description of her perfect man back in high-school: he's handsome (so is Toshiro), taller than her (thankfully puberty kicked his shortness out and he's a decent height of 6'0), he's not only a boyfriend but someone she can tell anything too (he had that trait for years), she wants an eighties boy—one who'll stand outside her window with a beaten-up boom-box, drive her away on a lawnmower, raise his fist into the air for his victory, but mostly a guy who'll dance and love in the rain.

He's never done any of those last things—well he rode a lawnmower once with Karin in the hitch, but that's about it—the singer hates the rain; it seemed like nothing but a scene for death and depressing topics in movies—Toshiro's done the whole air-pump victory move, but never for love or any kind of romance, it was mostly for his career, marks and successes—does throwing rocks at Karin's window count for the boom-box? Probably not.

But that's not the end of her " _perfect-man"_ —he's complex, well compared to other guys. Toshiro always thought he and this _"perfect-fella'"_ had a lot in common, which they do, but now that he wants to become all those things it seems like a mere dream. Complex but completely simple.

"Karin," he calls out from the change-room as he finishes the suit slightly.

"You done?" Karin sits-up from her laying position on the couch.

"No—not yet," Toshiro replies while fiddling with the cuffs.

"Then what is it?"

The model bits his lip for the old memory of the _"perfect-man"_ , he's full-heartedly trying to be that but he must know if it's changed. "I was wondering about something in High-school."

"That was _so_ long ago," Karin sighs.

"I know, but…." He trails—his heart fluttering in his chest. "That list for your "Perfect Man"—has that changed at all?"

Karin is stiff for the sudden reminder—she hadn't forgotten that list, but she didn't expect Toshiro to remember it. "Yeah, it's changed quite a lot I think. Why?"

"Just wondering," the singer say before stepping out of the change-room—instantly the subject changes to utter amazement.

"That's the one!" Karin shouts to the store-clerk nearby and to the singer—her excitement and happiness is adorable in Toshiro's eyes.

 _._

 _._

 _Why not?_

 _._

 _._

Karin stands near the exit-tunnel of the airport waiting—waiting for her twin and _new_ housemate.

She's ecstatic—more than that—with Yuzu around she can ask her questions that she can't ask Toshiro, like: what to do with the two men in her life. Questions like this one have been in her mind for a while, and lately the soccer-stars been thinking about breaking things off with Jinta.

The two message last night were the only things she's heard from him since then—the soccer-player went to his apartment building after her dance-class with Toshiro, but the red-head wasn't there. Then at the film-set for the music-video, she tried to call Jinta but instantly got his voicemail.

Karin had tried everything—visiting, calling, texting, even the stone-age email—but her _boyfriend_ is no-where to be found which is bringing panic into Karin's heart for some reason.

Hopefully while her sister's at the house, they can talk like old-times and Karin could finally settle her thoughts with Toshiro and Jinta—but it would suck for the soccer-star since she won't be at home often.

Due to the music-video, the ball, photoshoots (surprisingly), practices, radio-shows and whatever pops-up in her schedule, she wouldn't be able to spend that much time with Yuzu. Either way it's best the soccer-player keeps herself busy, the thought of trade-offs' are still haunting her brain.

"Karin!" a sweet voice yells from the terminal—the soccer-player looks forward to see her busty sister running toward her, bags in hand, a large-smile on her nude-glossed lips, long sandy-hairs gliding through the air and a light-pink fit-and-flare sun-dress on her model-like body.

"Yu!" Karin shouts as she hugs the woman tightly. "It's been _too_ long!"

"I'll say," Yuzu chuckles into her sister shoulder—her heart heavy because of her backstabbing ways; she's love her sister but Yuzu also loves Jinta, she couldn't decide between the two—but either way someone's going to be hurt in the end.

Releasing the busty-blonde, Karin smiles and takes one of her sister suitcases. "Come on, I bet you're exhausted from the flight, right?"

"Just a bit," Yuzu lies—she's exhausted but not from the flight, but from her _long_ night with her _lover._

"Let's head to the house; we'll set-down your luggage, show you to your room and then you can take a little nap," Karin grins close to her sister.

"That sounds like the best thing in the _whole_ world," Yuzu grins with appreciation.

The two sister's walk through the airport—smiling, laughing—ultimately catching-up again, neither know the course of events that were soon to unveil from the ashes—tarring their bond to shreds.

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* * *

Image of the Chapter: an extreme close-up of white droplets on a glass wall/window.

korohoshi\- Thank you for the congratulations for graduating, it's a little scary to be honest and I don't know if I'm more frighten by the fact I'm getting older or that I'm "entering" the "real world". Thank you for the review and I hope to hear from you again.

Lil Scarlett- I know what you're talking about—I, too, was super excited when Toshiro finally got his shit-together, but that's just me. Thank you for reviewing and hope to keep hearing for you.

The Austin Power references are actual lines from some of the movies—I actually just cut-and-pasted them into the story, so if there seems to be anything wrong with that dialog, it's actually the correct-way it's said in the movie. I noticed that the slag of Austin Power's is a little funky, but whatever, it's already a major movie.

Well everyone, I know it's late for me, so I've edited this chapter quickly—so please mind the mistake, I'll fix them later when I'm not about the pass-out.

Tell me what you thought about the chapter, and what you would like to see in the next.

Until next time~

R&R


	9. Chapter 9

_~ Why not? ~_

A soft, white and fluffy house-coat covers her slim body—the signature scent of freshly brewed coffee clouds her apartment like morning-dew on grass. All is silent while she stares out the large window-view in her living-room observing the tiny cream-chested bird perched on a branch.

She never really taken the time to look out her window and observe all that goes-on outside her apartment—Karin's always been far too busy, which didn't make any since when truly thinking about it; she merely went to practice, played soccer-games, has the occasional interview and photoshoot, but that's about it.

The raven-haired beauty didn't take Toshiro's schedule into consideration, but _she_ really should—everything he does she's there for (mostly).

A quite yawn whispers through her lips—she knows Toshiro isn't going to like her exhaustion—he wants her to look her best today or so he told her last-night over a three-hour phone-call. Sadly, Karin couldn't find herself sleeping—her lids wouldn't shut, the thoughts continued to ramble in her skull and body never felt numb with sleep until now.

The soccer-star doesn't understand what's unsettling her at the moment—she should be happy and content that her twin is here with her, but something isn't right.

After Yuzu's arrival, Karin's begun to notice something different about her sister—she's more agitated when Karin speaks about boy-troubles, Yuzu likes to stay-out without warning her sister when she'll be back or who's with her—when Karin attempted to timidly ask where and who the multi-threat went out with, she became defensive about trust and what not. Something isn't right, and Karin doesn't only sense it but knows.

Karin asked Toshiro as well—he merely thought it's all the pressure from Yuzu's acting classes and the filming that's going to start-up soon, but such excuses didn't sit with the soccer-player.

Her sister has never been a woman of worry or stress—she never really had anything to stress or worry about since she's _always_ been good at everything. What's stressing her suddenly?

Either way, Karin's taken notice to the gradual break in her bond with Yuzu which is slowly breaking her heart.

 _._

 _._

 _Why not?_

 _._

 _._

Purple? No—she's never looked good in purple, well she does but not utterly stunning.

Green? Maybe—probably not, he wants more of a feminine color.

Yellow maybe?—her pale skin will make her look like a walking canary.

Pink—pink seems like the perfect color!

He walks with confidence towards the dresses, but freezes in the middle of the store—there's too many—how's he supposed to know what will look good on Karin?

"Are you alright, sir?"—the singer jumps for the sudden voice and looks over quickly. When he the sight of a woman with short-locks, framed glasses and a kind smile comes into view he sighs. By the classy clothing and name-tag on her chest, the singer figures she works here.

"Actually, you may be able to help me," Toshiro grins—the woman's eyes light with amazement.

"Y-You're…Histuga—, "her words are muffled by a scream that squeals past her lips.

Toshiro rolls his eyes for her actions and sighs while rubbing the back of his neck— _this_ is the shit he hated the most. "Yeah, that's me," he bluntly states; his eyes look over the racks of dresses before he figures he needs the woman's help. "Listen, let's cut the fan-girl crap and get down to business can we?"

The sales-clerk stands straight before nodding: "Of course, sir."

"Great!" he claps his hands. "I'm looking for a dress"—no shit—"for someone who's extremely important to me—"

"Are you engaged?" the clerk leans forward; Toshiro tense for the sudden question—where the fuck did she get that? Wait, he did call Karin special… could that really mean—no! "Are the tabloids wrong about what happened with you and Momo?"

"First of all, I'm not engaged—I'm currently single," he corrects; her eyes nearly became head-beams for the news. Knowing the crazy fan-girls ways, she probably hoping she has a chance, which she doesn't. "But…" he trails and the clerk snaps from her daze, "I'm in love with this woman."

The girl nods and looks over the store. "Well, what's the occasion?"

"It's the celebrate ball," Toshiro answers.

She tenses for the news—everyone knows the ball is tonight, which doesn't leave any room for alterations to the woman's body-type. "Firstly, tell me about her"—Toshiro blushes for her bold demand but gives a slight expression of cluelessness. "What do you love about her?"

Everything—he loves everything about her.

"Her smile—it lights up the room, even when she's been crying—her laugh is like sirens on the water; it's beautiful and alluring"—once he started, he couldn't necessarily stop himself. "She's down to earth and fearless, but sensitive at the same time. I've known her for years and she's always there for me—more than I could ask, but she knows me for who I am—she accepts me for that—"

"Wow," the woman sighs with a smile. "You're definitely in love with this woman—do you have a picture of her?"

"Oh yeah," Toshiro instantly replies; pulling his phone from his pocket he scrolls through his images until coming upon a photo of Karin: it's one that Rangiku took at the photoshoot—she's smiling and laughing while holding onto his arm.

"She's radiant," the clerk smiles. "Do you have one with just her body perhaps?"

"Yeah," Toshiro blushing before scrolling through once again.

The next image is one that the singer snuck during the music-video: it's Karin talking to Rukia, clad in a bikini with her arm holding up her hair—it wasn't the greatest moment to take a picture, but it sounds her curves.

"And what color is your suit?"

"Black," he flawlessly replies—the clerk claps her hands before squealing with excitement. "What?"

"I've got the _perfect_ dress for her," the woman announces—the singer stops as she disappears into the back. "We just got it yesterday from a designer and it's never been worn, but seeming as your date has feisty-curves, a bright personality and gorgeous features…" the woman yells from the stock-room.

Toshiro stands near the flopping doors and waits for the worker—when the two doors open and the petite woman is revealed with a dress in a plastic bag, he stops. "…This will be perfect for her."

 _._

 _._

 _Why not?_

 _._

 _._

Fiddling with the cuffs of his suit, the singer attempts to hide his nerves—it's a frightening first, but it's a good fear—it feels like the first-time your parent stops holding the back of your back and allows you to ride independently.

The bottom of his shoes _click_ softly on the floor as he makes his way towards his hallway mirror—the singer had to get ready downstairs since his _date_ has taken over his bedroom. He never thought that getting a small-team of stylist to work on Karin, would mean kicking him out of his _bedroom_.

Toshiro doesn't complain though—how could he? They were going to create his _beyond_ perfect woman—not that she isn't perfect already, but with professionals doing her hair, make-up, accessorizing and attire… Karin would be every man's ideal dream-girl.

He tenses when the scampering of the stylist ends suddenly—he thought, Karin had stopped their production somehow.

Toshiro went to the stairs quickly but stops when the sound of heels echo the ceiling above him— _she's_ ready.

In a frantic-rush, he runs his fingers through his white locks, straightens the ends of his white-blouse and checks his pocket for the silk silver cloth perking through the black-jacket. The singers more than a single nervous man— _he's_ a nervous wreck—Toshiro hasn't been nervous for a _long_ time; the last time he was this nervous was back in High-school—it was the night he had his first-kiss and he wasn't nervous for the girl, but nervous about screwing-up and becoming the next fool of the class—even back then it wasn't this bad.

His hands are sweaty—lips chapped like a dry desert—heart racing and voice sticking to his throat. Perhaps he wasn't nervous for his first-kiss—he could've been since this feels nothing like before.

How does he get rid of this feeling?

Looking around the room he tries to find something that will calm his nerves—a glass with a little-bit of liquor, a glass of water—even a stress-balls that wander around his house sometimes, anything would be better than this, right?

When nothing came into view, Toshiro gathers his courage and nervous antic's, turns his eyes to the stairs—it disappears—the nervousness had vanished within an instant.

At the top of the stairs stood his _best-friend_.

The singer's cheeks became rosy for the sight—the dress fit perfect, just as the store-clerk had stated—but the woman was wrong about one thing: the dress didn't make Karin breath-taking, _she_ made the dress _stunning_.

"I don't know whether to assume you went through my clothes or you asked the stylist for my dress-size," the soccer-player says in embarrassment—he had picked her size perfectly, even though he's never been inside her closet and she's _positive_ Toshiro wouldn't go to stylist for her sizes.

"D-Does that mean I nailed the dress?" he stutters; eyes glued to her curvy form—the long black-dress fits her form especially around her breast and bottom, her silky pale-skin glistens from the short-sleeves and the see-through pattern running down her side.

Karin gives a faint chuckle as she looks down to her own exposed leg perking through the slit in the side—she couldn't admit that the dress makes her feel amazing, it would only bust his ego more than she can handle. "I guess you did," she replies.

His heart flutters for the sheepish smile behind the soccer-players dangling loose-curls—he feels the urge to walk up those stairs, move the lose stubborn curls that had been purposely left-out of the messy bun—the wishes to lift her chin and kiss her nude lips, but he couldn't—the burning sensation in his throat would prevent him from kissing her lips—Toshiro really wants nothing more than to say: _"I love you."_

Karin tries to walk down the first-step but wobbles and grabs onto the railing—he runs up the stairs to her side, she looks over to the play-boy with her dazzling eyes—taking his breath away. "You may have nailed the dress, but you failed with the heels," she teases. "Woa—ah!" she exclaims as she begins to fall forward.

Her body presses against his—a perfect fit if you may—it seems like it was all planned (which it was). The singer would have to call the designer of the shoes and thank them for creating such high, classy but difficult to move in—if it weren't for their _brilliance_ he'd never have such a fine woman pressing against him.

Karin giggles for the realization— "You think you're _so_ sly, huh?"

"Well, it seems like my plan worked," he snickers inches away from her lips; her lashes flutter with a metallic-haze—it's her alluring song that can work on him whenever he looks into her orbs.

"Yeah," she whispers with a raised brow "it worked, just this once."

The two went silent for a moment, both staring into each other's eyes. Toshiro pulls back a loose-curl and searches her onyx-eyes for some-sort of sparkle—it doesn't take him long to find that said spark.

"This isn't another trick," he warns—she holds her breath as his hand snakes from her cheek to his trouser-pocket. "I know you don't really wear jewelry but…" he trails as the white box comes into her view "…I thought it's about time, I man up and give you a proper gift."

"Oh my…" she gasps for the golden locket inside the box—engraved on the circular shaped locket orchids (the only flower she actually likes), and in the middle read: _'Till the end of time.'_ "It's beautiful," Karin whispers with a bright smile. "Thank you—thank you so much," she throws her arms around his tan neck and buries her face into his collar. "What's inside?"

He blushes—it's supposed to be a secret till the end of the night. "You can look inside after the ball."

 _._

 _._

 _Why not?_

 _._

 _._

Eyes—everyone's eyes were on her and she can feel it, every orb and compliment that would never make it to her face. But the singer and soccer-star continue to laugh over expensive food and wine, flirt like it's their last time and spy on the dancefloor that's slowly being filled with celebrates.

Toshiro had to admit, his wish is coming true: to bring Karin on a romantic date and see her enjoy herself—he couldn't be happier. Neither party had noticed the jealous stares of Momo and her lover, even though her eyes could set the sun to shame.

When her eyes linger towards the dancefloor he takes her hand in his and pulls her to her feet.

"Toshiro," the soccer-player chuckles as he spins her around—when pulled into his chest she looks up into his brilliant eyes and notices the _look_ in his eyes. "W-Wha…" she rendered unable to speak for the daring roar of heat rushing through her stomach—it's the _look_ that drives her sexually-mad.

"Something wrong with me wanting a dance?" he whispers into her ear like the wind.

Karin's blinks rapidly, enable to process what just happened— _the look—_ how did...?

"Shut-up and dance with me," she says a little more on the aggressive but flirtatious side, it seems more of challenge to the singer, which drives his hormones crazy—it's as though she knows what buttons to press to start his sex-drive.

His bright-turquoise orbs look over her back—he could see it all: the black-laced bra holding her breast in place, the skimpy but arousing pair of sheer black boxer like panties she wore—this all started with a simple aggressive demand, which annoys him slightly.

Once on the dancefloor, he wraps an arm around her thin-waist—feeling the heap of her back under his fingers—the other takes her delicate palm in his. "Don't hold back now," Karin dares as he starts to take the lead.

"That would be a shame since we took all those _dance_ classes together,"—how could they forget? In all those hours of dancing, the two best-friends had learned how to arouse the other with a single movement—well, Karin did at least (sadly it wasn't very hard). The dance instructed seemed more perverted than sexually-crazed teenage boys after a rated: R movie.

Neither could complain—it gave _him_ a reason to touch _her—_ and it gave _her_ a reason to feel _him._ It was a win-win situation, except for the press frequent visits in the bushes.

Now they stand in a crowd of other people—hand-in-hand, eyes connected and hearts as one—both understanding the other's space and the way to move with their partner. The dance-instructor would be proud at the moment, maybe.

A playful giggle comes from her lips as he spins her out and back into his arms—back pressed against his, she looks over her shoulder and grins like a love-struck teenager. "Is this another trick?" she whispers—if it were a trick, it's working… sadly.

"…Karin…" he stops suddenly—the urge to tell her the truth bubbling in his stomach as the raven-haired athlete places her attention complete on him.

"Yeah?" her voice is innocent to him—she's so pure in his mind, he is nothing but a sleazy dirt-ball—does he deserve such a woman?

He went to tell her it's nothing a trick that he's used on many woman, but something overpowers him—call it his heart taking control or a spirit pushing him in the right-direction. "…When it comes to you, I don't have any tricks."

She appalled for the news— _never ever_ has he told someone thing, and she would know since the singer tell her everything. "…Really?" Karin squeak with her heart in her throat; it's frightening to both friends but flattering.

"Yeah…" he trails with a shy blush—when he looks away in embarrassment, Karin purses her lips together and places a hand on his cheek (gently). The singer snaps his vision onto his childhood friend to see the dim-fire in his eyes—it's the blaze he's always tried to start, but never could. "… They don't work on you," he admits.

Karin throws her logic and will-power out the window—placing her lips on his, she moans gently, locking Toshiro into a lustful-mode.

.

.

.

* * *

Image of the Chapter: a bird sitting on a branch.

Thank you everyone who reviewed: korohoshi and Miko873, it means a lot!

I will tell you one thing before I go thought—I'm going to be getting into lemons soon in this story and I have a structure difference from my other stories.

So, for those who don't want to read a lemon—who're like: I'm not in the mood right now, I'll come back later and read it (maybe) or skip that section—in the first draft, so the chapter, I will conclude that they did have sex—just like I did in Pug's love and the Deep end.

Then for those who _love_ their smut—which I can't judge, I like it too. I will post a second chapter following that specific chapter, and label it: Lemon or something fruit related. I chose this because, I am one of those readers who have days I want to read a lemon and some days I don't—then when I feel like reading one in the story, I can't find it.

Well anyways, I thought I would explain that a little bit.

Until next time!

R&R


	10. Chapter 10

_~ Why not? ~_

Raw, rough and utterly wondrous—his lips on hers' as the two-stars stumbles out of his vehicle and up the steps to his house.

What _is_ she thinking?

Nothing— _clearly_ —but the soccer-player knows _this_ is bad. Even though Jinta's a cheater (she's stated that many times), she didn't want to be on his level—such thoughts rush into her mind as the singers lips slowly run to her neck, soft and caring pecks while her fingers fiddle in his white-locks.

Those exact thoughts vanish like the wind once Toshiro pulls her closer and attacks her lips once more, leaving her mind blank from her nagging morals.

When did something _so_ wrong become… _so_ right?

Why did _he_ have to be such an amazing kisser?

Better yet—why does _bad_ feel so good?

Karin can't answer either question, her mind is numb with a single thought that constantly circles her mind—call it deprivation or raging hormones, but all she can think about is _sex._

If they were to be caught, which is likely, she couldn't give an excuse—Toshiro never spiked her drink—they weren't drunk—he's not blackmailing her, even though he probably could—it's not for publicity or more attention in the media—and like hell, she could blame _the look_. No excuses, just pure desire.

Suddenly the distinctive sound of her dress zipper _zooms_ through the night-air.

Her eyes widen and instantly her hands push the play-boy model away. The soccer-star bows her head in shame, unable to conclude her suddenly lack of control and reasoning.

Rattling fills the air—Karin looks over with hooded eyes—when the sight of Toshiro attempting to open the door makes her heart quicken and breathe hitch. _He_ still thinks—"We can't," she whispers and he stops.

"Karin…" he mutters in a sigh—Toshiro knows all too well. "…I know."

She bits her lip as the linger taste of the singer wavers through her taste-buds. "Then… why?"

Why? Why did he take her back to his house?—He doesn't know, it felt right at the time and in his heart he thought… he thought he might actually have a chance.

He looks over—cheeks tinted with blush and eyes alerted to the floor—if he was going to tell her the truth, he couldn't look her in the eye—it'll would only stop him. "I…I want you…" he finally admits. "Not just for one night either."

The _thumping_ in Karin's chest sounds like she played several games of soccer without a break—it might implode in her chest—but she always dreamt of Toshiro saying those words to her. She should be happy about this—and she is inside—but on the outside she's confused about a lot of things; they've been like this for a little over a week (maybe) and now—now of all times? She could be traded in a few weeks. They'd be in different countries and a part forever.

"W-What are _we_ , Toshiro?" she steps forward; eyes searching his bright-oceans.

He leans forward pressing his forehead against her and closing his eyes as her aroma dances around his senses—inside he's a _little_ disappoint—he had (somewhat) confessed and she still hasn't answered, which is never a good sign—yet he can't get mad or upset, she does have a boyfriend.

"I don't know," he says with a guilty grin—Toshiro knows that regardless of what happens with these _feelings_ inside his souls, he'll always be there for her, even if it hurts in the end. "But…I know one thing," the singer starts before licking his swollen lips, "I want to be able to do _this_ without feeling confused afterwards."

A delicate hand rests on the back of his neck—playing the tiny white-hairs while she nudges his nose softly to get closer. "What do you mean by: _this_?" she whispers in a daring tone.

The model beams as he closes the space between them—he realizes _they_ shouldn't do this – he shouldn't encourage her like this, it'd only be a sign of his capability to take her pure slate of infidelities. Yet, he can't resist—all his senses want _her_ —everything: taste, smell… body.

Toshiro deepens the kiss—ardent and gingerly— _he_ can be rapacious, right? The singers was good with his last relationship—he was loyal, understanding (somewhat), supportive (when he had free-time) and tried new things (that might be pushing it)—it's probably been a month or less since he's had sex.

An inviting sob whines from her throat when Toshiro presses her firmly upon a wall—lifting her leg to his waist, he becomes closer until she gains her will-power once more. Without thinking, he tries to pull her back into a desirable stance—one he could control.

"I should go," Karin wins—the singer steps back in defeat. "I'll—I'll text you—"

"Wait," she stops and turns from the steps. Toshiro groans softly for the inflaming muscle below, but pushes the lust out of his mind. "Do you…" he trails—thinking about how to say it exactly without making it completely obvious, "Do you ever think we can be… _more_ than just best-friends?"

The soccer-star tenses for the question— _she's_ thought about it many times, but could she admit that now? Would it be weird to say: I've thought about it more than you think?

He notices the silent thinking she was doing. "I don't expect you give me an answer right away"—she snaps her eyes towards him—"Just think about it—consider it."

She nods innocently and zips up her dress: "Good night Toshi."

 _._

 _._

 _Why not?_

 _._

 _._

Rattling comes from her keys as she fiddles with her apartment lock—Yuzu must be asleep since its late and the soccer-player didn't want to awake her twin, especially with the mess of lipstick on her lips—it'd only bring the actress to questioning her—she doesn't need it right now.

Karin's thought were everywhere—she doesn't understand: why has Toshiro suddenly become like this? Actually she should've noticed the changes before, when they first kissed outside the studio, but nothing seemed to come to mind.

Maybe she's just overthinking everything—perhaps she's been completely blind since there were kids; he could've been flirting with her since childhood and she never noticed until now, when everything is _literally_ blunt as fuck. Could Karin be that dense? Well, she is Ichigo's little sister after all.

Pushing the door open, she's welcomed to a quite— _way too quite—_ apartment.

The soccer-player sighs as she kicks off the stilettos and un-zips the dress—tossing the keys onto the side-table along with her wallet.

Peeling off the black-dress she walks towards the laundry-room—with a flick of the light-switch she heads over to the drier in her undergarment and scrambles through the clean clothing until stopping at a sweat-shirt, one she stole from Toshiro.

The grey sweat-shirt pools her body as she pulls on a pair of yoga-shorts, closes the drier door and grabs the dress. She hums while pulling her hair back and heads towards her bedroom.

Rounding the corner she towards the rooms, she kicks something laying on the floor—looking to the ground she notices a pair of sneakers – not any ordinary sneakers but _Jinta's_.

She stops humming and strains her ears— _bed springs_ —there's no doubting the squeak squeals of the metal-springs. Her stomach aches for the noise, eyes widen for the conclusions rambling through her mind: he brought a crew-member to her apartment— _no_ — he must be playing a prank on her or something. Could it be that Yuzu went out and Jinta came over with another woman?—none of her assumptions came close to the truth.

Dropping the dress she walks to the bedroom Yuzu was sleeping in—the sounds of moans and grunts fill her ears—the woman calls for the actor and the soccer-player's breath quivers for the familiar voice - _her sister._

The shattering could be heard like a police-siren—her heart couldn't handle the thought of her…her sister—it can't be true—it's nothing but a fluke, right? Jinta just found someone who sounds like Yuzu and her sister's out on the town with some of her modeling friend— _that_ had to be it.

Gathering her courage she grasps the knob—opening the door, the murky scent of sweat, pants and sex hit her nose. The moans become the only noises in the apartment as the moon shines through the dark-room.

The soccer-player freezes for the sight: Yuzu on top of the red-head actor. "Yu…" Karin whispers into her palm.

When Yuzu notices the moonlight coming into the room, she looks over with her hips still rocking—a grunt comes from Jinta when she comes to a halt. Her eyes widen for the on-looker— _Karin_.

"Kar—, "the actress tries as she climbs off the male.

"How could you?!" Karin screams—chest rising and falling rapidly.

Yuzu attempts to reach her sister but stops when the soccer-stars shoulders begin to shake, her hands seems like the end of a rattle-snake.

Her throat feels numb—heart like fire and lungs cloaked in sadness. She couldn't stay here anymore— _she_ needs to scream—cry.

The sandy-haired twin watches in silence—she knows that face—the face of utter pain. Just as her sister turns to leave the scene, Yuzu grabs her bath-rob and quickly follows after her.

"Karin!" she yells as the soccer-player grabs her keys and opens the door. "Karin please! Please listen to me!"

The model grabs her twins arm with an iron grip. "Karin… please—"

"I've had enough," the cold tone of Karin's voice makes Yuzu freeze. "I—I can't do this shit anymore!" Karin shouts with a push of her sister. "You're supposed to be my sister—my fucking family! And look what you're doing: screwing _my_ boyfriend in _my_ own house!"

"I'm sorr—"

"No you're not!" Karin interrupts. "It seems like you got another thing you're good at—backstabbing your own family."

Yuzu's silent as her sister storms down the hallway—vanishing from the apartment building.

 _._

 _._

The sky is spinning—star's nothing but a multi-color blur in the dark pool of the galaxy, the only steady image that comes into her view is the palm-tree's lined along the apartment build while she fumbled into her vehicle.

She gasps while leaning into the driver-seat—why? Why does it hurt so much?

Her lungs burn as she struggles to put the keys into the ignition—drive, just drive and forget everything—forget the cheating she's endured, the fears of being traded, her feelings for her best-friend and the confusion in her life—but running away wouldn't help, it'd only make it worse.

As the engine roars to life, she closes her soar-eyes to calm herself—would it be fair to run to Toshiro like this? Yes, but how could she? They're so _complicated—_ first they're making out and about to jump into the sack, the next she's on his couch sobbing about her sister and ex-boyfriend? This isn't some sit-com where it all makes sense.

Lifting her head—eyes closed and lips purses together, she reaches a conclusion and grips the stirring-wheel before stepping down on the gas.

 _._

 _._

 _Why not?_

 _._

 _._

Pacing the apartment, Yuzu runs her fingers through her messy-locks. "She—she wasn't supposed to find out this way, Jinta!" she panics—the chef knows her sister and women like Karin don't just forgive and forget, they hate and never stop.

"Babe, you need to calm down," Jinta sighs from the couch. "She knows now and there's nothing that can change that."

"No fucking shit!" she snaps—he tenses for her harsh tone.

"You need to calm the hell down," Jinta growls. "Karin's you're sister—"

"Yeah! And you _were_ her boyfriend," Yuzu points out—the actor bows his head slightly. "That look she just gave me—I broke her heart! Not you or Toshiro— _me —_ her own twin!"

"Exactly," he stands. "You're family, she hast to forgive you."

"Jinta, this is _Karin_ we're talking about," the blonde states with tears. "She's never going to forgive me—not in a million years," Yuzu sobs; falling to the floor the actors kneels down and wraps her in his arms for comfort.

"It'll work out," he whispers into her hair. "Karin loves you so much—just give her time."

She leans back from her boyfriend and nods while wiping her tears from her cheeks. "Yeah… you're right," Yuzu sniffles before looking over her sister's apartment.

"What're you thinking about now?" he asks—the wandering eyes give him the clue.

"Do you have your phone on you?" she questions; he nods and hands her the device without hesitation.

"What're you going to do?"

"Call Toshiro," she answers.

"What?" Jinta snaps before grabbing the phone. "If he knows what just happened, he'll kill me!"

Yuzu is silent—she knows her sisters' best-friend wouldn't only kill Jinta but torture him for his cheating-ways—but it's the only person who came to mind when it comes to her sister.

She could call her brother and Rukia, but they wouldn't know her whereabouts—knowing the couple, they'd give her a shocked but hopeful response of _"don't worry, she'll come back soon."_

Then there's Karin's team-mates—they'd beat the shit out of them—especially Nel, she'd have absolutely no mercy for either party.

Toshiro—he's their best choice—yes he would potentially kick the day-lights out of Jinta, but when thinking it through, there's one things that would stop the singer—Karin, she wouldn't allow the model to do anything since he'd land in prison for assault and would become someone's bitch.

"No," Yuzu says before grabbing the phone and dialing the familiar number. "Karin would stop him."

 _._

 _._

 _Why not?_

 _._

 _._

 _B-ring!  
B-ring!_

A blue towel wrapped around his waist, he scurries from the warm bathroom and into his bedroom, thinking the call could be from his _best-friend_ —on the nightstand sits his cellphone, buzzing like a bee and the wallpaper of he and Karin.

He sighs for the unknown number and taps the answer-call button.

"Hello," Toshiro's raspy voice echoes through the phone.

"T-Toshiro?"—he holds the phone away from his damp ear with a confused look written upon his face.

"Yuzu?" the singer question, when an innocent hum went through the phone he sighs. "Why are you calling me?"

"It's about Karin—, "she starts.

"If this is about the _thing_ that happened before she went home—, "he tried while pacing the hardwood floor.

"What _thing?_ " Yuzu says with a raised brow—Toshiro curses under his breath for revealing _his_ little secret.

"Nothing—nothing!" he exclaims in frustration. "What's up with Karin?"

"Better question: what happened with you and my sister?" the actress insists. "Did you and Karin sleep—"

"God no!" Toshiro yells as he flops onto his bed. "Karin—Karin has Jinta—and even though he's a dirty fucking piece of shit, she wouldn't cheat on someone…" he sighs; leaning over his knee's he runs his free-hand through his wet white locks. "That's just how Karin is—that's something that I love so much about her, but that doesn't matter—even if I want to be with her," the singers voice becomes lower and lower until its nothing but a whisper which sends a shiver down her spine.

"A-Are you…" her voice cracks, "in love with her?"

The model freezes in place— _shit_ —"Uh well…" he trails in uncertainty; the line goes silent for a moment as he thinks—"yeah, I love her."

"It took you long enough!"—Toshiro grunts for her comment.

"I-Is this why the fuck you called me?" he asks with irritation—the conversation seemed to transition from serious to down-right casual. "If that's the case, I'm hanging up—"

"No, no, no," she quickly says to get back on track. "Karin _needs_ you right now."

The mattress bounces as he slowly sits down—this doesn't feel right—Karin… she never really _needed_ him. So, the statement makes his heart race and his mind rambling with questions about Karin's well-being. There's plenty of things that could've happened when she left his house—a car accident, mugged, raped, gang-banged, hit and run, shooting—too many things could've happened.

"W-What's wrong with Karin?" Toshiro stutters in fear—when Yuzu's silent for a moment, he panics. "Fucking tell me Yuzu!" he demands.

"Karin's runaway."

 _._

 _._

 _._

* * *

Image of the chapter: a night sky in a circular motion with palm-tree's


	11. Chapter 11

_~ Why not? ~_

Sitting alone with a single beer in hand, lines of empty shoots, rounds of liquor bottles with barely a drip to the bottom.

The bartender looks down at the woman staring into the green-glass with her onyx-eyes glazed with intoxication.

He's counted—five bottles of rum, twenty shots, ten mixed drinks, three beers and several long island iced tea—okay, maybe he's lost count a while ago. Either way it doesn't matter, he's positive _she's_ drunk off her ass.

"I should really end your drinks, "the tender says while scooping ice into a square-glass.

"And—I should've told my best-friend the truth," Karin slurs; the beer chills her lips as her hand moves her hair from her cheek.

The bartender places the glass down on the counter and leans against the surface to look into Karin's eyes. "Alright," he sighs with a faint interest, "tell me why such a fine woman (such as yourself), is here—alone, on a Saturday?"

She snorts back a laugh: "Where's this sudden interest coming from?"

"Drinks and daily stories are a bartender's job—especially when you've got a customer who's drinking your line dry," the tender knocks on the counter before pushing off the edge and looking around his bar. "By the looks of it back here… you'll drink me bare before sun-rise."

The soccer-star snickers as swallows the last of her beer; leaning forward she waves the bartender close—he complies. "If I'm going to tell you my little— _dilemma—_ I'll need another line of shots—" she whispers before fiddling with his name-tag, "Hisagi."

 _._

 _._

 _Why not?_

 _._

 _._

Where is _she_?

The singer growls as he rips the phone from his ear and looks at the calling-screen—he's getting annoyed with the dial-tone.

He stops—looking around the street in dismay—the singer's world seemed to become disarray since Karin's went missing. The worse thing is that Yuzu didn't give him any information to why the soccer-star ran away. He didn't know if it was something minor like stress, thinking time or PMS, for all he fucking knows.

But he's managed to eliminate those options since he went to the beaches, the gym where Karin works out and her favorite frozen-yogurt bar—she wasn't there.

Such conclusions lead him to the final result: _something_ emotionally damaging has come into the soccer-players faith—he doesn't know what it is but, Toshiro is certain to find her and comfort his best-friend.

Knowing a hint of the situation, he starts looking at the different clubs and bars around Tokyo—hoping to see the raven-haired beauty sitting at a bar shit-faced and sleepy—it's the easiest stage of Karin – one he could handle.

Jogging across a cross-walk he looks through the crowds of people—not stopping due to fans that would harass him for autographs and other shit he didn't need.

Suddenly his jog comes to a halt—through a cheap florescent blue lite window clouded by smoke, he sees _her_.

Toshiro notices the heaping amount of alcohol bottles around her—but his eyes rest on the bartender whose leaning _way_ too close for the singer's liking. Just when Toshiro's rage came to a steady fire the bartender brushes a lose lock from Karin's pearl cheek—instantly the play-boy model enters the bar.

The chaotic rustles of an after-work pool-games, men clinking beers with a cheer and some really expired country-rock music blurs the bar—Toshiro wouldn't dare to step into this place until now—it doesn't appeal to his _preference._

As he creeps closer to Karin, he notices the cut-up and beaten red leather booths—squeaky vintage wooden floors—tacky and cheap blue painted walls: thicken, stained, rusted and perfumed with aging nicotine—the only bright light in the room comes from the bar ceiling which is a sickly blue, but it's good enough to drag in drunk/desperate men like moths.

"I—I wanna—, "Karin hiccups with a goofy smile on her lips "—vodka on the r-rocks!"

"I should cut you off," Hisagi says—Toshiro eyes the male whilst he gets closer: tall, tanned skin, muscular arms with sleeves of tattoos, maroon locks and wearing a ripped up t-shirt to seem like a muscle-shirt. If pure anger, worry, jealous and over-protection weren't coursing through his veins, he would've avoided any conflict with the tender—but not tonight.

"Yeah you should," the singer suddenly speaks up.

Hisagi looks over with raised brow—curious for who his new guest is, but wondering the connection between the two. The tender inside the tanned-hulk drives him to place down the order as told.

Toshiro notices Karin's hands heading to the liquor, instant he grabs the drink and tosses it back. "That's it Karin, "he says; she looks over with her sad eyes and intoxicated smile. "No more drinks, okay?"

The soccer-player grins as she grabs the models arm—fingers dancing around his skin she inhales his scent. His familiar scent wafers through her nose: Pine-tree, honey, watermelon, spice—oh how she loves that smell.

Tears bubble her eyes—she pulls the singer close, wrapping her arms around his waist as she buries her face into his lumpy chest. "To—Toshi," she whimpers into his navy-blue t-shirt; his arms hug her head softly while he smooths her hair. "I-It's not fair."

His heart seems to calm-down—her presence sooths him. "Life's not fair," Toshiro whispers; a hand rubs circles around her back.

Hisagi notices the two lover's feelings immediately and nods to the seat next to Karin—Toshiro takes notices as the bartender pulls out the stool and sits down. "You're gonna want to hear her story."

"Thanks," the singer solemnly says before Karin sits up from his abdomen, wipes her tears leaking down her cheeks and sniffles loudly like a sick child. "Are you okay?" Toshiro whispers.

Karin nods with her eyes on her bare thighs, avoiding his orbs. "I-I'm fine," she tries.

"You're such a pathetic lair," he sighs before waving to Hisagi for a beer. "I've known you for over nineteen years and never could you lie to me."

Karin props elbow and gives the singer a pouty face—he bites his lip for her large puppy-dog eyes. "H-Hey now," he points in a demanding tone "don't do that"

"Do what, Toshi?" she pouts while batting her lashes.

" _That_ " he grins, "that big-eyed, pouty-lip face that makes you look like one of those monkeys with the really big eyes."

Giggling she shakes her head softly, "You mean: Slow Loris?"

"Yes, Slow Loris monkeys," he concludes.

"They're adorable," the soccer-stars whispers.

Toshiro leans forward—her intoxicated breath on his cheeks as he looks into her sad, glazed and big eyes. "Yes they most certainly are."

"You must be the best-friend," Hisagi suddenly interrupts the two—a grin on his lip and eyes wide for the discovery—Toshiro raises a brow at the bartender as he claps his hands as a mocking applause. "Dude, you two have done some funny shit," he chuckles.

"Oh yeah," the singer snarls. "Like what?"

Hisagi halts and ponders on which of the stories seemed to come to mind—it shouldn't be hard since the soccer-star had told him a little under an hour ago.

"The one memory that always makes me smile is when we used cup-phones," Karin's smile slowly drops from her lips. "Ya know," she sniffles, "we used to talk all night long through those stupid cups so our parents wouldn't find out."

The two males look at the drunken player in confusion—neither knowing where she's going with this, or if it's the alcohol getting to her head.

"It was peaceful bantering—even when your granny caught-on and started checking on you every half-hour," Karin says with a sad tone. "At the time we didn't know better—Yuzu even thought I was crazy. Then again, what girl at the age of seven would stay-up late just to talk through a plastic-cup?"

"It's called love,"—the two friends snap their gaze onto the bartender as he crosses his arms over his chest. "Love isn't always about: sex, commitment, money or a stupid piece of paper—the best love out there is the simple kind. The one where you can be happy with one person no-matter what shit you get into."

The singer blushes for the bartender admirable words— _love,_ what a fickle word.

Did he love Karin back then? Heck, they only cared about the tooth-fairy and whether they could go to the park after dinner, love never seemed to come to mind—now that he's old and more _in-touch_ with his feelings—it seems like he did love Karin back then.

"What the fuck is love?" Karin bitterly spits; leaning over the counter she grabs another bottle—not reading the label/name she pops the top and starts to drink the burning liquor. "To me, it seems like another pathetic excuse to backstab someone who's stupid enough to believe in that shit."

Toshiro's put-off by her words—yet, he can't really talk since he's always been shielded by the thought of _falling in love_. "Where's this coming from?" he asks—she's always spoken to him about what she wanted from love (in the future).

Karin raises the bottle as she swallows—a sign of cheers and dismissal. "I've found out tonight," he notices her tone becoming vulgar and enraged, "that even your family can backstab you—as long as _love_ is involved."

Now he's really confused—"Karin what're you—who backstabbed you?"

"My little bitch of a twin," she hisses—Toshiro humps back into his sit thinking.

Yuzu had called _him_ —rare indeed, nearly unknown—he figured that something what's going on, but he always thought it would be something like: our dad's in the hospital—no, Karin would call him for that—Karin's finally lost her marbles (who knows when that'll happen). But, either way, he thought Karin's twin would contact him for emergencies _only._

"If that's the case, then why did Yuzu call me?" Toshiro says in a humble tone.

Karin snorts a chuckle before kissing the liquor-spout again. "She thinks that by calling you, I will forgive her—either that or she doesn't know the proper steps to being a backstabber."

"What are these steps you speak of?" the singer sighs.

"Oh the same old-shit—become friends with the person, use their kindness, strip them dry and then stick the dry-knife into their back—, "she lists within any signs of compassion.

"You sound like a psychopathy when you list it like that," Toshiro interrupts.

"I'd rather be deemed insane, then be a two-face whore who sleeps with her sister's boyfriend," Karin barely whispers; she didn't want the model to hear the statement, but by the wide-eyed look on his face she knows he heard her.

Toshiro's silent as he thinking about the phone call—Yuzu did seem distant, like she didn't want to talk about what happened between her and Karin, but he didn't think it would be _that._ What would lead her to sleep with Jinta?—and he thought his girlfriend cheating on him with his manager hurt—he couldn't imagine a sibling doing it.

As he ponders a sudden question rises—"You didn't catch them… did you?"

Karin nods "Once I got home, I changed for bed. Then, went to go to my room when I kicked a shoe—Jinta's sneakers—so, I strained my ears and heard them. I didn't believe it at first, until I opened the door and came face-to-face with my sister riding him like a pony."

 _._

 _._

Hours later—another two rounds of shots—five more long islands and a few cruel jokes, Toshiro decided to take Karin home, even though another round of shots and a few rocked-drinks would bring her into the state he _loves_ (sleeping drunk) but her strong Viking mentality for alcohol was burning gaping holes into his pocket.

"You know," she hiccups as he carries her up his porch steps, "you've got _really_ pretty hair."

Toshiro sighs for her state—the soccer-player's at the brinks of her sleeping-stage of drunkenness: bluntly honest and to the point—it's the easiest stage to get anything out of Karin now; if he wanted to know her bank-card pin, she would give it to him without blinking—it's a dangerous state, especially when you're in a bar with a bartender who's struggling with money.

He turns with his keys and locks his hummer—god forbid if he let Karin drive, either way it didn't matter, she locked her keys and phone inside her car earlier—smart move on her end, especially if he didn't find her and she wanted to go home or to a hotel for the night.

"Mr. Emoji~" she whines from his shoulder; Toshiro nods in a response while fiddling with his front-door, "I feel funny" she giggles.

"I bet you do Kar," the singer snickers as he opens the door and leads her inside. "You drank enough for an entire wedding party."

"Wedding? You want to marry me?"—yes but no, he never said that—he would deny her drunken plea's like he usually did but knowing how shattered her heart must feel, he plays along.

"Of course," the model answers before sweeping her off her feet and into a bridal hold—he needed her to get upstairs, and knowing her drunk walk of shame, it'd take her years to get to his bedroom where she could sleep off the booze.

"You'd make really cute babies!" Karin shouts in excitement—"We'd have a little boy with your eyes—I really love your eyes—oh and he'd have my hair because black is dominate! Then a little girl—oh she could look just like you—that'd be adorable! Then we can have twins—yes, twins! I want one boy and a gir—"

"You've put a lot of thought into this," he stops halfway up the stairs—hearing the bantering he can tell she's thought long and hard about these _"future children"_ —it doesn't creep him out surprisingly, it's comforting and cute (strangely).

A blush comes to her cheeks as she avoids his gaze like a child who's been caught with their hand in the cookie-jar. "Karin, come on, why'd you think so hard about this?" Toshiro pushes.

"I-I've always wanted to have kids with you, baka!" she exclaims in embarrassment.

Toshiro's lips turn-up in a light-grin as he continues up the staircase, "It's a nice thought or goal."

The rest of the way upstairs into his room is nothing but Karin blabbering about nonsense—even when he lays her down on the bed she continues without interruptions. It never ended, especially when ventured downstairs for several items: a bucket, Advil, tums, water (tones), crackers and other "supposed" cures.

His climb to his room is quite— _too_ quiet for his liking, but when he enters room he freezes. "What are you doing?" Toshiro asks.

Karin giggles childishly whilst pulling down her yoga-shorts and flopping onto the bed with a gleeful squeal. "I got hot!" she cheers loudly; the singer blushes for her undergarments. "Really hot"—he looks away for her slutty tone.

He pushes her seductive ways aside and places the bucket next to the bed, pills on the nightstand along with the water and crackers.

"You're really going to kill my willpower, huh?" he whispers as he stares at an old-picture of himself—it's better than looking at the soccer-player since it'd only bring him to sleep with her.

"I don't want you to have willpower…Toshiro" she kneels on the mattress, leaning her breast against his arm she whispers such a flirt into his skin causing the singer to shiver in delight. "…For years, I've wanted you."

Biting his desires in the ass, he focuses on the photo—the beachy scene in the background as he stands facing the ocean while the sea kisses the shoreline. Back then he had chubby cheeks, a messy lock of white hair and wore nothing but a t-shirt to swim—innocent.

His focus on the image is lost when she lays on the bed and flips the frame down onto the wooden nightstand—he looks over to the half-naked woman in his bed, the same woman he was dying to touch after the ball earlier—she nibbles on her bottom lip as she looks over his body with hunger.

"What're you thinking about?" he whispers, sitting on the edge of the bed with his back hunched over her form.

Karin places a hand on his cheek and sits up—eyes looking into his and lips parted in an alluring song. "I should've never went with Jinta…" she trails, pressing her forehead against his, "especially since I've been in love you for so many years."

"You have?" he whispers—creeping closer to her lips.

"I don't know a day I didn't," she answers before capturing his lips in a soft meaningful kiss.

She leans back into the covers, arms wrapped around his neck as he straddles her body onto the bed—as the heat of the kiss burns like a raging fire she lifts his shirt to reveal his _perfectly_ sculpted abs.

They pull away from each other—Toshiro contemplates on leaving the room now; it would only be better for them both. He heard what he's been dying to hear—she _loves_ him—but now his excitement is climbing and willpowers being beaten with a hammer like a bloody crime.

When her breath hitches in the air and his shirt is tossed onto the floor—willpower seems like a distant cry for insanity.

He crashes his lips onto hers—hot, rough and thrilled—his hands wander over her lapping hills of muscle and skin—it felt like they were meant to be on her body; it felt _so_ right.

She mules in pleasure once he presses against her heated-sex—throughout the sexually-driven glory, clothing is discarded, pants are hurt and a friendship turns into something more—something that's only read in fairytale books.

 _._

 _._

 _Why not?_

 _._

 _._

She moans gently for the splitting headache—she feels like someone took a baseball bat to her head.

The light from the curtains make her grunt, when an arm snakes cover her torso and pulls her closer, she's wide-awake—in panic she holds her breath, not knowing who the hell is in her bed.

" _Shit_ ," she mutters under her breath—was it the bartender? The last she can recall, they were getting pretty friendly at the bar. Maybe it's someone else—a person who was playing a friendly game of pool—please don't be a married man!

Taking a deep breath in she inhales a scent— _his_ scent—Karin blinks for the wonderful smell that calms her heart. Could it be she found someone who smelt just like Toshiro? If so, she might just sleep with them again, just to get all her pent-up sexual rage out of her system.

"Good-morning," a husky voice whispers into her ear—their lips kiss the lob and she purrs like a kitten—this _mystery-man_ knows how to make a woman feel good. "How's your head, beautiful?"

Terrible, she wanted to reply—but seeming that there's a comforting tone to his sleep-throat, she turns over to greet her drunken sex-toy—it felt amazing to be called beautiful; no man has ever called her that, except her father, brother and Toshiro.

Her eyes widen when she meet two bright turquoise eyes, dazed in sleep and white locks sticking to his skin. "T-Toshiro?" she squeaks in shock.

"You know it's a turn-on when you say my name like that," he flirts.

"Fuck!" she shouts and sits-up—the quick movement didn't settle with her head or stomach since her gag-reflex began to awaken.

Toshiro hand her the bucket from the floor—she pukes loudly while he rubs the sleep from his eyes and holds her hair from her vomit. "God that's gross," Karin whispers in shame.

"Trust me, I'm used to it," he says—she looks over to the singer as he hands her a glass of water and pills.

Tossing back the pills and liquid she sighs. "Did we really…you know?"

"Have sex?" he raises a brow.

"Yeah, that," Karin says with a hint of shame.

"Don't be a shamed of it," Toshiro quickly states—she looks over to see his eyes looking off into the distance—he's being serious. "Last night you went through a lot—and to be honest, I'd rather you sleep with me—where I know you're safe—rather than with some stranger."

"You sound like my dad," she grumps. "Minus the whole having sex thing."

"I don't care if I do," Toshiro firmly tells her—Karin's eyes widen for the bold stand.

"Well, I kind of do," she snaps suddenly.

"Why?"

She snorts for his question. "Toshiro," the soccer-player starts, "I was the _only_ one who didn't sleep with you until last night."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"It's simple—now, I'm nothing but another contact with emoji's."

Toshiro bows his head in shame—he always figured his player-ways would come to haunt him—but he can't back down from this now. "No you're not."

"Oh yeah?" she snorts. "What makes me _so_ different from the others?"

He locks his jaw for the moment and gathers his courage—looking into her grey eyes he licks his lips. "I'm in love with you, Karin—that's what makes it different."

"You…are?" she whispers—all her dreams seem to be coming true this morning—is this someone's way of re-paying her for the shitty course of events that occurred last night in her apartment?

"Yeah," he sheepishly replies—running a hand through his hair he looks over to the soccer-star. "I am."

Karin's heart flutters for his confession—she'd love to tell him: I do too—but that's a little _too_ cliché for her liking, no one needs that mushy-crap in the morning. "This doesn't count," she tells him—his eyes become sad for her statement. "I was drunk and not in the right mind—last night doesn't count."

He sighs for her ways—he somewhat figured she'd pull this shit on him now. "Then, when does it count?"

That's a good-question—she locks eyes with him as she scrambles through her mind, thinking about what to say. "You'll know when alcohol doesn't influence me to get into the sack with you."

"Karin, I know you love me," he suddenly rebuts.

"How do you know that?" she quickly questions.

"You told me last night in your _Truthful_ stage."

She mentally curses that side of her—the one that tells only the truth and nothing more—there's no-way she can deny it now. "I do love you…" Karin says, he grins softly for the confession "with all my heart—I've loved you for years and never told you."

"You told me that too," he chuckles, "along with your ideas of our _future_ family."

"Now that's embarrassing," she admits.

"Nah, I think it's adorable."

Looking over with her ebony-orbs, he caresses her cheek and places his nose next to hers. "What happens now?" she dares to whisper.

He searches her orbs looking for the answer, but his heart screams one instead. "I want to try and make this work."

Karin smiles softly for the demand—she too wants to do that. "Is this the part where you kiss me?"

"No," he chuckles. "I just watched you puke—there's no way I'm kissing you until you brush your teeth and use mouth-wash."

"True, my mouth does taste like a jock-strap right now," she giggles playfully.

"That's disgusting," he pulls away with a smile. "Go brush your teeth!"

"Fine, I will!" she says while slowly climbing out of bed—when she goes to get dressed, he stops her.

"Oh no, I said brush your teeth, not get dressed," he tries.

"Since when do I need to be naked to lay in bed?"

"Since I told you so."

"Too bad Mr. Emoji," she snickers before grabbing one of his shirts and slipping the fabric onto her torso. "You don't control me."

"Good, that's one of the things I love about you."

 _._

 _._

 _._

* * *

Image of the Chapter: A little boy on the beach looking at the ocean.

The next page that I will put on after this will be the lemon for this chapter—if you don't want to read it, by all means don't go onto the next "page", but in the future if you want to read it—it will name the chapter: Lemon, so you can find it.


	12. Chapter 11: Lemon

**[Lemon: Warning this chapter will be nothing but sexual content. For readers who wish to avoid sexual content please exit from this chapter, thank you]**

* * *

 _~ Why not? ~_

The crinkling of the mattress, sweet-sweet hypnotic pants fill the air— _she_ can't get enough.

Indeed the alcohol will take effect in the morning, but usually the soccer-star wouldn't forget _this._ Now she's most certain, he'll make her forget with a white-haze of pleasure.

The singer trails up and captures her lips in a blind fog of desire. Her but devilish intention seem to fuel him somehow— _he_ wants more than just her body but… her everything.

Grasping her thin hips he drives her forward; pressing her firmly against his waist, he feels her muscular legs locks around him tightly—there's no escape.

It seems nearly unbelievable—how can one woman do this to him? Drive him made with desire, force him to use willpower, shatter his walls of sultry to fall in love and give him more than he deserves. It's almost seems unjustified and delusional.

Suddenly he's knocked back into reality when his back presses against the covers—she straddles his waist with a sexy-smile, hips rocking over his uncomfortable area—his eyes stick to her breast as they bounce in a rhythm.

Grasping the back of her neck he pulls her lips down on his—roughly they explore each other's mouths—the singer busies himself with her bra, fiddling with the clip in the back.

Karin snickers when he's unable to undo the black-lace bra, "Need help with that?" she whispers into his ear like an enchanting song.

Sitting-up she reaches to the clips—hair flipped to the side to reveal her long silky neck as she unclasps the claws. The two straps slide down her shoulder slowly as the soccer-star peels off the support-system and drops it onto the floor.

His eyes widen for the sight of her two large perky breast—they looked better without the bra (shockingly). Toshiro leans forward and captures one of the breast in his hot-mouth—Karin mules for the spark of pleasure rushing from her chest and grinds her covered-womanhood against his inflamed member.

He grunts in delight while her delicate hand snakes down his shoulders and chest, into his pants rubbing against his member. "Fuck…" he groans as his hold on the nipple vanishes—his white-locks sway as he leans away from the woman and slings his head back in a pure-rush of bliss.

"Does that feel good?" she seductive whispers in his ear—the singer nods in a trance, when she stops he goes to complain only to find the vixen on her knee's pulling down his jeans.

"Karin, when did you become so _naughty?_ " he purrs the lewd-word over his tongue once she re-connects with his solid member and removes his boxers. "Good heavens…" he sobs in pleasure once a hot entrance slides down his stabs and pumps rapidly.

The singer could see stars—never in a million years did he think _this_ would happen with a woman like Karin. He's known her as the rough around the edges, boyish, aggressive and sporty—now she's something more complex: bold and daring, sexy and respectful, along with a hint of kinky in the mix.

As she pleasures him down-blow he reaches down and glades her soaked garments down her long legs, she kicks the boxer-like underwear to the floor and rolls her hips as licks up his staff with her pink-tongue.

A silent _pop_ comes from her lips as she looks down at the large-penis in front of her—large, thick and pulsing. "That was…amazing," he pants.

Karin giggles innocently which drives him to flip her onto the bed, capture her lips and rub his pulsating muscle against her slick petals. She moans into his lips as her hands claw crescent-moons into his muscular back.

"P-Put it in," she pleads—Toshiro smirks as he leans over to the nightstand drawer and pulls out a lone condom—Karin sits up as he rips the package open with his teeth and slides the rubber over the standing muscle. "Mmm," she hums once he inserts two fingers inside her soaked-walls.

He pumps wildly as she rewards him with gasps and loud moans—when she bucks her hips he leans down and sucks on her white-neck: biting, licking and kissing the same area repeatedly. She rubs against him—rosy chest pressed against his hills of muscles creating friction between their bodies.

When her walls seem to tighten he removes his fingers—she whines for the dismissal to her orgasm, but soon gasps as a white-cloud of lust covers her eyes. The throbbing muscle rams into her womanhood bringing the soccer-star to gasps in pleasure and hug his shoulders.

She's tight—tighter than he imagined, if he didn't know the man who took her virginity he'd say he just took her cherry—it felt like his dick was being clenched tightly as a pulsing heat throbs against him—it's different from the other women he's been with.

"So…tight," he mutters into a pant— she rocks her hips roughly and he takes the movement as a hint to start.

"Toshiro," she whispers sensually.

The sweet-song of his name drives him to pump his hips rapidly—Karin gasps his name like a spell and curls under his sweet-movements. "Harder!" the soccer-star shouts.

The singer holds her hips tightly as he becomes rougher—grabbing her breast in his large hand and pounding her core like a drummers during their solo. "Oooh!" she gaps for the thrill racing through her loins.

"K-Karin," he stutters as he places his hands on the mattress and continues to increase his speed—her walls tighten around him for the sudden intensity making him groan loudly.

The soccer-stars arouse and presses her lips against his—he holds her to his chest and pulls her into a loving kiss—when they pull away he looks deep into her eyes as she grins at the singer. "I…" his voice clogs"….I lo—, "she stops him with a finger to the lips.

"As much as I want to hear that right now…" Karin whispers while leaving a trail of pecks over his cheeks and down his neck, "I would rather you tell me that when I'm not drunk—so I can remember it in the morning."

He nods in understanding—soothed by her sudden wish which calms his heart, but when she rolls her hips over his member he grunts and his heart-rate begins to quicken.

Karin's gasp for his rapid thrust that shakes her core with an incredible strength—biting her bottom lip she wraps her legs around his waist to take all his length inside her folds. Her ankles knock as he continues to promptly slam into her walls like a batter-ram.

As he becomes faster she covers her mouth for the shaking climax awakening between her legs—he expands and becomes a throbbing muscle inside her core—the singer knows he's finished in a matter of moments.

"T-Toshiro," she moans happily—he curses under his breath as a trail of sweat begins to run down his chest.

His bright-eyes lock on her neck as the glowing layer of dew cakes her skin—her round breast move rapidly with his hips, he leans down and captures on of the pink perking nipples in his mouth—not letting his speed fade—the other hand massages the other ball of flesh making her whimper and moan audibly.

Feeling her walls clench Karin shouts a mule and flips the play-boy model onto his back—Toshiro is shocked at first but soon groans as she slips down his staff.

She bits her lips rashly as she begins to bounce—attempting to ignore the urge rushing through her stomach like a lake of lava pouring down a hill. His hands rest on her hips as she grinds her sex into his.

He can tell by her pants and constant sounds that she's getting close as well—when her walls lock on his penis the singer hisses loudly and props his hips up.

Karin shouts his name as he rams into her womanhood without mercy—bringing the raven-haired beauty to her climax and a blank-haze.

He grunts roughly as he feel his release fill the rubber-cover and pants as the soccer-star lays on his nude chest—both panting like mad-man and moaning in desire.

The singer can easily state: this is the best sex he's had in a long time, if not ever.

Karin can see stars and fireworks in her drunken haze—her mind is blown to bits as she looks over to Toshiro as he blinks away the same fireworks that blur his vision.

His arms wrap around her frame—holding her tight to his body as she drifts to sleep.


	13. Chapter 12

_~ Why not? ~_

A long stone bridge—colored in aging grey-rocks—the season of fall covers the surrounding nature as dying leaves trickle to the ground.

In the distance stands a pair on either side of the stone pathway—staring at the other with wide-eyes and purses lips—classic cross-road scene for romance movies.

"I bet you they'll ran at each other and have a messy make-out session," Toshiro chirps from the soccer-players side, an arm draped around her shoulders as her eyes stay on the television.

"Alright," Karin smirks—looking over to the singer she lays her head into the crock of his neck. "I bet, they'll meet in the middle, talk and then have a passionate kiss."

"Oh you're so on," he chuckles.

Both watch closely as the two lovers run across the bridge—the romantic music drops in the background—once they meet in the middle they stop, staring into each other's eyes as they grasp each other's hands: _"Paul… I-I can't go."_

"I win!" Karin shouts as they two actors have romantic-chat before kissing. "Ha!" she looks over to the singer as he groans in dismay.

"You did win," he sighs with his eyes on Karin. "What do you want for winning?"

"What'd you want if you won?"

"A kiss," he whispers with a hint of blush on his cheeks.

"Simple, huh?"

"I don't like to make things complicating."

"I know," Karin smiles, "You've been that way since we were kids."

"Yeah and look where that got me," Toshiro says with his eyes on her lips.

"Hmm…" she hums, "You got a successful career as a singer, a house, car and contact with play-boy," she lists.

"You forgot something,"—he cups her cheek with a delicate hand. "I got you," the singer whispers before capturing her flush-lips.

As they pull-away Karin grins for the touch. "That was the cheesiest line I've ever heard," she admits; Toshiro chuckles for the truth. "Promise me something."

"Depends on the promise," the singer tells her.

"It doesn't include eating a worm or something like that," Karin snorts—recalling the dare/promise they made a children.

"That wasn't a promise, that was definitely a dare," he rebuts.

"No," the soccer-player argues. "You promised you wouldn't go to the pool without me _ever_ , and as a result of breaking the promise—which you did—you had to eat a worm," her voice seemed proud of the fact, even though the memory of Toshiro eating a worm was disturbing.

"Okay, I guess it was a promise," he mumbles.

"What is that?" she smiles. "Was the smart Toshiro Histugaya admitting defeat? Did he just say I was right and he's wrong?" Karin scoffs. "I _must_ call New York Times!"

The model laughs for her goofy-ways and waves her sarcasm off like a fly. "You're something else."

"If I wasn't you'd be a bored, bored man," she pokes at his chest.

"True enough," he sighs—rolling his eyes over to his girlfriend he fiddles with her long-locks. "So, what's your prize?"

Leaning back she thinks for a moment—tapping her finger on her chin as she looks to his white-ceiling. "I want you to come with me to my soccer-practice today," she simply requests—he raises a brow for the choice. "What? I've never had a boyfriend come watch me practice and everyone's boyfriend or husband comes to their practice."

He's silent for a moment—knowing all her exes, he can conclude that she's completely right—all of them were dick's who never gave her the time of day, especially Jinta. "Okay, I'll become your soccer-mom."

"Thank you," she grins—leaning forward she pecks his cheek innocently; the singer blushes for the sudden gesture and pull her closer into his side.

 _._

 _._

 _Why not?_

 _._

 _._

Climbing over the benches the singer stares at the large group of men, he recognizes a few faces from the VIP booth for home games. Thanks to Karin, he'd get to sit in the booth with the other family-members, boyfriends, partners or spouses.

At the time they all questioned Toshiro on whether he was dating one of the soccer-players—when he replied: no back then he didn't know he'd be dating one now.

Once his eyes catch an intimidating male near the middle of the herd, Toshiro ventures through the different men. "Grimmejow!" the singer shouts; the boy-haired male looks over with a raise brow.

"Histugaya? What the hell are you doing here?" Grimmejow grins; standing from the mental bench he welcomes the new-comer with a warm smile.

Toshiro looks over the goalies fiancée with his tall stature, thick arms covered in different tattoos, his short blue-hair blows in the stadium air while he taps the empty space never to him. "I—, "Toshiro stops as he thinks about what to say. "I'm here to watch Karin practice."

Grimmejow snickers as he leans back—the soccer-players on the field begin to crowd near the coach for their pep-talk since there's a game on the weekend. "Sounds like you're being forced into the boyfriend slot of things," he mumbles while digging into a cane of Pringles.

"Boyfriend slot, huh?" the model grins slyly—he's in the right place then.

"Look around ya'" Grimmejow sighs, "These are all the boyfriends, husbands, lovers, fiancée's and partners—sitting here, _during_ a practice is a boyfriend thing."

Upon hearing the news the singer shakes his head—it seems like he'll have to make a spot in his schedule, so he can come to the practices every day. "And why do you guys come to their practices?"

The blue-haired male gives him a side-glance "Simple: to support our women."

Toshiro didn't have to ask any farther questions since he knows why they need support—it's because of the public, well the men who would comment on the team's social-media stating: they should be in the kitchen and not on a field—little comment from little people, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt.

"I'll be here every day from now on then," the singer comments, instantly Grimmejow's attention is grabbed.

"What?" he leans over with the last Pringle in hand. "Are you filling in for that dick-head Jinta?"—it didn't surprise Toshiro about Grimmejow's knowledge of Karin's _ex_ -boyfriend; Karin and Nel are _very_ close and tell each other nearly everything.

"Something like that," Toshiro smirks; his eyes narrow-in on Karin as she runs down the field at medium-speed—he could tell it's only half her efforts because of his _coaching_ back in University. "Come on," the singer growls as the raven-haired beauty approaches the ball but totally misses—on purpose?

"What's wrong?" Grimmejow questions—the sound of the coach screaming at Karin could be heard from the stands, but the singer figures it won't get through to her—she never listens to yelling.

"Karin's playing slopping," the model sighs into his hands—Grimmejow shrugs Toshiro's comment off and looks into the empty tin. "Can I see that actually?"

"Uh, sure?"

Taking the Pringle cane in hand the singer takes off the bottom swiftly. "What're you—Toshiro you can't do—"

.

.

"Karin!" upon hearing her name, she looks over to the stands to see Toshiro—instantly a smile comes to her cheeks—she didn't think he'd actually come to her practice. "Stop playing hop-chalk like girl and start playing some _fucking_ soccer!"

Karin places her hands on her hips as she eyes the singer in the stands—from a distance she can see that he's fighting off Grimmejow as he attempts to take the Pringles cane away.

"Who the hell is that?" the soccer-star hears from behind her—it's her coach.

"Toshiro," Karin simply answers.

"The guy who's in the VIP booth every game?" the coach questions; Karin nods with a hum. "Why's he here? He isn't anyone's boyfriend."

The raven-haired player giggles as the singer trips over another male, soon bringing Grimmejow down with him. "He's mine" Karin shyly replies while chewing on her bottom-lip.

The male looks at his star-player with wide-eyes—noticing his eyes on her, Karin smiles before running off.

 _._

 _._

 _Why not?_

 _._

 _._

"Thanks for today," her hot-breath kisses his neck as he adjusts his hands on her thighs.

The salty scent of the soccer-players sweat catches his nose—after practice he'd offer to give her a piggy-back to his car, since _she_ had to give Nel her car for the week because the goalies vehicle was at the mechanics.

"It was my pleasure," Toshiro grins as her arms tighten around his neck. "Besides, I found out some of my _roles/priorities_ as your boyfriend," he unlocks his hummer and opens the door for Karin.

She slides in like butter, when he turns to head to the drives-seat she pulls him between her legs with a strong grip. "And what are those priorities?" she whispers; eyes up and neck craned towards him.

He caresses her cheek and presses his forehead against hers'. "To support you and be here to watch you succeed," he softly says.

"Oh yeah?" Karin giggles with a hint of seduction. "And how're you supposed to do that?"

"Be at all your practices and games," he answers before capturing her lips gently.

She's shocked by the news—she's happy that he wants to be there for her, but, she also knows that he has other things to do—he has his _own_ career.

"Toshiro you can't—, "the soccer-star tries, he stops her with a slim finger press to her lips.

Leaning in closer, he tightens his jaw as his piercing blue eyes fix on her form. "I told you," his voice thick and serious, "I really want to make this work… and I don't want to mess this up."

She's never seen his eyes so intense—it makes her body tremble with satisfaction. Karin doesn't understand what Toshiro's _so_ worried about, but whatever it is, it hast to be something that could ruin their friend let-alone their relationship.

 _._

 _._

 _Why not?_

 _._

 _._

Seated on the cool leather couch, both of them are silent—neither wanting to say a word or make sense of the next-step, but certain it'd have to be logical for both individuals who're supposed to make an appearance soon.

He looks over to the actress leaning over her knees, fingers racking her hair for a reasonable conclusion or equal-ground, but there's none. How could there be a reasonable ending when you sleep with your sister's _ex-boyfriend_?

Jinta purses his lips together with his eyes on Yuzu, she's been like this since Karin ran-out of the apartment—silent, stressed, crying and paranoid—it's not healthy. He's tried everything to calm her down: tea, comfort, blankets and getting out of the house, but nothing worked.

Her current state will end soon since Toshiro had called her a little under twenty-minutes ago, and told the actress he and Karin are coming over to get some of her things. Yuzu seemed nearly ecstatic, but Jinta not so much—he knows the singers going to beat the shit out of him. Would he stop Toshiro? No, there's no point, he's _knows_ he deserving a _good_ ass kicking.

The red-head's just wondering where, a guy like Toshiro, would attack first—the face maybe?—No, a model like Toshiro knows it's not good to hit someone in the face, especially in their field of work. Perhaps the stomach—Jinta could handle that.

When the front-door clicks open, he's thoughts end—he was about to find out in person.

"I want to get my shit and leave as fast as possible," the distinctive tone of Karin causes Yuzu to stand from the couch and look towards the entrance.

"I got it,"—Jinta flinches for Toshiro's voice, his body can already feel the aching throughout his violent rage.

"You better not forget that promise you made me on the way here?"—Yuzu gives a soft smile for the happiness in her sister's voice, it's been awhile since she's heard her so… so… cheerful.

"Fries and a frozen yogurt," Toshiro sighs with a confused look on his face. "You sure you're feeling alright? I mean, salty fries and frozen-yogurt aren't a good mix."

Karin rolls her eyes for the secret meaning behind his words. "I'm not pregnant. It's probably bloody-Mary coming for her monthly visit," she waves off—he doesn't cringe for the thought of a period since he's used to it.

He throws his arms into the air as a defeat. "Alright, if you say so."

"I know so!" the soccer-star exclaims with a push. "If my eggo was prego, you'd be the one to blame," she points.

"Oh really? How so?" he raises a brow.

"The last I had sex was over a year ago, and you're the only guy who's been in my presence the most,"—Toshiro stops sharply for the news and tilts his head.

"That explain a lot," the singer admits only to get a punch in response.

"Fuck off," Karin hisses under her breath.

The singer snickers before pulling her into his chest without warning. "You'd get no results if I fucked off, fuck sideways…" he trails while moving a strain of hair from her cheek, "We did that last night."

Yuzu's eyes widen for the news—she figured her sister would someday (maybe) sleep with Toshiro but never so soon, and right after she caught _them_ together.

Karin smirks before pushing away from the model. "I told you: last night doesn't count—I was drunk off my ass."

Jinta sneers for his exes rebut—he's been there and done that—the drunk sex with Karin, it's the only sex he'd get with her and it was the best—well, not as good as Yuzu but still if he actually didn't love the blonde he'd stay with the soccer-player just for the drunk-sex.

"To you it didn't count," Toshiro growls before stepping into the living-room, not noticing the couple on the couch. "You still haven't answered my question," he sighs.

"Which is?" Karin leans forward slightly.

"How'd you get _so_ naughty?" the singer repeats from last night with a perked brow. "You did some _really_ kinky shit last night."

Yuzu clears her throat upon hearing the question—she didn't need to know her sisters _techniques_ or _ways_ in bed, that's a _way_ too personal for her liking, but she soon began to regret being noticed when Karin looks over.

Her jaw's set and eyes glaring into her sisters—she looks disgusted, but that's only the beginning—Toshiro's eyes were cold as ice, enough to freeze the whole place if he could.

Like lightening, Toshiro grabs Karin's hand once she attempts to leave the apartment and flea to his car. "Go get your stuff," he tells her with a kind tone—she nods softly before looking between the two visitors and heading to her bedroom.

"Wait, Kar—, "Yuzu tries to call out.

"Don't, "Toshiro states; the blonde looks over with wide-eyes and shaking hands—she's about to snap it seems. "You've done enough damage," he nearly growls.

"That's my sister!" the actress shouts.

"And what the fuck is your point?" Toshiro sneers with anger.

"I should have the _right_ to speak to her!" Yuzu rebuts; about to step-up to the singer she's held in place by Jinta. "Who the hell do you think you are?!"

Toshiro doesn't flinch for her hustle behavior—he figured this would happen. "I think I'm the one who didn't fuck-around with her boyfriend, found her drunk as Jack Sparrow last-night, has been her best-friend for years and hasn't missed one of her games," the two tense for the truth. "Now, the question is: who the fuck do you think you are?"

The blonde-twin is silent as Jinta growls at the singer—pissed he made his _love_ cry once again. "Watch yourself Tosh—"

"What? Are you pissed off that I made your little _girlfriend_ cry?" the singer snarls with displeasure. "Well get over it! The truth hurts!"

"You don't have to be such a dick about it!" the red-head steps forward with curled hands.

"Really?" Toshiro chuckles, "I think I've got more right to being dick to both you, than you've got inches down below."

"You bastard," Jinta roars—a gasp fills the air from Yuzu once the actor punches the singer in the jaw.

Spit trickles the air from Toshiro as his lip throbs with blood—he knows there's a cut from the force, but it doesn't affect him. Instantly the singer responses with a swift but powerful punch right in Jinta's nose—the red-head curses as he stumbles onto the floor, holding his nose as the blood pools in his hand.

"Karin will be living with me from now on," Toshiro announces as the soccer-player appears from the bedroom with a suitcase in hand.

Scurrying over to play-boy's side she watches as Toshiro leans down to Jinta's fallen body and whispers: "You didn't deserve her."

Jinta slowly stands which brings Yuzu to come to his side with a worried look, "Says you: the biggest cheater of all the stars," he points out. "It's just a matter of time till you do the same thing to her."

That's what Toshiro fears the most.

 _._

 _._

 _._

* * *

Image of the Chapter: an old stone-bridge in the fall.

Thank you for the review Guest!

I found it a little _funny_ when I looked at the states for Chapter 11 and the lemon. It seems there's many visitor/readers looking over the lemon, but I guess my _new_ method worked.

R&R

Until next time, Bleachlover 2346~


	14. Chapter 13

_~ Why not? ~_

The hummer is silent—not the peaceful kind either, it's more of an anxious quiet, waiting for someone (anyone) to say the first word. Sadly, either of the two want to speak as they stare out the wind-shield and at the revolving doors of the radio station.

Both can recall the course of events from their last interview with the talk-show host— _they_ don't want to re-live such a painful memory, even though it caused the singer to finally accept the nagging truth of his feelings.

The passed interview isn't the only thing making them sit in the vehicle in utter silent, there's also the knowledge of _announcing_ their relationship on the air. It's still new, but, they've known each other for years so it shouldn't be hard, right?

Perhaps they are just embarrassed—right, they're embarrassed—not really.

A hiss comes from her side and she looks over to notice the scab on Toshiro's lip bleeding once again. Since the fight with Jinta, the cut hasn't stopped re-opening—she wanted to take him to the hospital for stitches but it wasn't _that_ serious.

The soccer-player leans in closer to the singer, concern written on her face and brushes the tiny smear of blood on his chin.

"Karin…" he mutters; staring into her onyx-orbs.

"I hate the fact you got hurt…because of me," her voice is weary as she admits the pitiful feeling in her chest. She never intended for Toshiro to fight Jinta—who's she kidding? Karin figured the singer would do something drastic and out-of-line—well, _his_ line.

The singer is silent. This whole time she's been thinking about this—a tiny cut on his lip? Isn't she worried?

 _He's_ Histugaya Toshiro: cheater, play-boy, model, notorious flirt, every girl's fantasy. _He's_ nothing but another Jinta… if anything.

After last night's little scene with Jinta and Yuzu, he couldn't stop thinking about the actors final words—his biggest fear now: cheating on Karin.

He can be loyal… right? Its' Karin after-all—his best-friend, blood-sibling/brother, his anchor or wall, supporter—h—how could he cheat on her?

He was loyal with Momo (even though she didn't really deserve it)—even then he constantly thought about cheating on her with many people, but, mostly Karin. But he didn't! He held back and put-up a strong fight against his sexual desires.

The singer's thoughts end when Karin places a little ointment on his lip. He could finally feel them; her eyes.

"I'm glad I got this," she tenses for his sudden words.

"You're glad you got a busted lip?" she questions with a raise brow.

"Yeah," he sighs, taking her hand in his he looks down at her thing fingers. "It was… for you."

Blush comes to her cheeks as he kisses her knuckles with a soft eye—she holds her breath he his blue-hues look over her form still draped in the last outfit from the music-video.

"Still, Toshi," she squeaks; he squeezes her hand softly with his attention on her. "You… you fought and got hurt—I didn't want that to happen," Toshiro alerts his eyes away from the soccer-player—to him she looks adorable right now with: big eyes of worry, innocent lips and rosy cheeks.

"W-Well, at least I didn't get arrested or anything," he stutters trying to hide his embarrassment.

Karin snorts a soft giggle for the remark, "I think you'd look hideous in orange."

"I would look amazing!" he rebuts.

"Not with that hair," Karin chuckles, "You'd look like a garden gnome went rouge."

"A gnome?" he chuckles with a stiff expression. "I thought I'd be a little more attractive than that."

"Oh no," she giggles while waving away his brief attempt to change her mind. "Either that or you'll be someone's booty-call."

Toshiro sneers for the truth—prison wouldn't be kind to him and the fact his _girlfriend_ knows this is a little comforting but mostly unsettling. "You're my booty-call now," he tries to change the subject and by bright blush on the soccer-stars cheeks he's doing a good-job at it.

"I checked your phone on the music-video set, and I don't have an emoji or nickname," she covers her embarrassment with a witty wink and smirk.

Toshiro raises a brow before looking down at his cell-phone, "How'd you know my pass-code?"

"I know it because I know you like a book," she snickers; leaning against his shoulder her eyes looking down to his wallpaper—he and Karin making funny faces on the night he and Momo broke-up—aka: a drunk photo. "I'm surprised you kept that picture as your wallpaper."

"Whys' that?" he looks away from the photo.

"…Because! You hate drunk pictures—, "she tries.

"True, it's not every-day I get a picture of you being stupid," he teases—Karin scoffs for the remark and flicks his neck with a narrow eye.

"Says the idiot wearing a watermelon on his head," she giggles with her orbs directly on Toshiro in the photo—the singer leaned over her shoulder: smile on his lips, cheeks covered in red juice, bottle of the flavored alcohol in hand, half of an empty watermelon shell on his head as he did a drunk duck face—such an easy and goofy image of her best-friend makes the soccer-player smile instantly.

Noticing the smile on her red-lips he nudges the soccer-star, "You love it."

Leaning back into the passenger's seat, Karin's eyes stare into the grey roof of the hummer with a thoughtful gaze. "Of course, "she sighs and looks over with a kindle, "it's the one side of you that I rarely get to see."

Karin knows all the different sides—she loves all of those sides but mostly his childish-self that would peek through without warning sometimes. Indeed his serious and adult attitude could be handy, but when he's acting outrageous and boyish, it's much more…soothing.

"B-Besides," the singer blushes. "How do you know my passcode?"

"It's the year we met"—she chuckles with a followed sigh. "How could I _not_ know your passcode?"

 _._

 _._

 _Why not?_

 _._

 _._

"Welcome back to Neko Radio," the host purrs through the mic with her eyes on the couple opposite to her. "While all you kittens where jamming my two guest have arrived. They were on air with me last week, and now they're back again. Turn up your volume and open your ears cause I've got Histugaya Toshiro and Kurosaki Karin at the studio!"

The two friend chuckle for the exciting introduction while an applause sound effect roars through the air. "Thanks for having us back," both the stars say in sync.

Yoruichi smirks for their coordinated response. "Seems like you two are back to being two pea's in a pod."

A blush came to their cheeks— _they're_ more than just a pod of peas.

Yoruichi giggles for their red-cheeks. "So, Karin,"—the soccer-player snaps her eyes onto the cat-loving woman for her name. "Social media tells me that you and Jinta are official over. Is that right?"

"Yeah, I and Jinta broke up about two days ago," Karin confirms.

"Why? You two seemed to hit it off," the host smirks.

Toshiro looks over to the raven-haired beauty as her hands form into fist—he didn't know whether to take the lead and tell the world the truth to Karin's break-up, or, make some taboo lie. Either way, he wasn't going to let her suffer like this.

"I interfered with their relationship," Toshiro suddenly says—Karin snaps her eyes over to her best-friend, astonish by his sudden comment. "I've had feeling's for Karin for a long time (ever since we were kids), and after all these years, I finally gathered the courage to ask her out."

Yoruichi grins softly as she looks over to the shocked Kurosaki woman. "Why did you pick Histugaya-kun over Jinta?"

Karin blinks rapidly as she hears the question—there's _many_ reasons why she would pick Toshiro over Jinta—for one Toshiro's _always_ been there for her, he's supportive, easy to talk to and completely thoughtful.

"Toshiro's the mystery man I was talking about in our last interview," Karin says without hesitation—the room goes silent for the confession. "Everyone can see him as this hunk with some pipes, but he's a lot more than that."

"Oh really?" the singer snickers. "What's more to me?" Toshiro leans towards the soccer-star with a cheesy smile on his lips.

Karin pokes his nose with a solemn finger. "A pain in my butt for one."

"That's not ever nice!" he pouts with a fickle grin coming to his lips.

"Please, you've known me for years—when have I been nice?"

Yoruichi chuckles for the two stars interaction—she's never had two people talk like this during an interview—it's completely natural without boundaries.

"I know! Yoruichi-san, you know what Karin made me do when we were kids?" the singer looks over to the radio-host as she fights back laughter.

"No… what did she make you do?"—Karin raises a brow to Toshiro as Yoruichi trails her answer.

The soccer-star knows where he's going with this.

"She made me eat a worm!" Toshiro exclaimed. "what kind of person she is?"

"I'd watch your tongue, Toshi," Karin's eyes burn with fire as she looks over to the singer. "I'm still in the room."

Toshiro shivers for the threatening look and draw his eyes to the table. "Ha… ha," he crackles a fake laugh. "You love me Karin."

"Doesn't mean, I won't use you for goal practice," she growls.

"How about we play _my_ kind of goal practice—penalty kicks," the singer winks.

Karin's cheek flush as his hand runs up her thigh, slowly moving over her jeans she alerts her eyes downwards. "B-B-Baka! (Idiot)" she stutters in embarrassment.

Yoruichi's cheeks turn pink as the singer leans into Karin's neck and kisses the pale flesh. "We can play my favorite—dungeons and dragons," he seductively whispers—Karin's ears turn bright-red for his lewd ways, but she doesn't faint, instead she grasps his ear and pulls the flesh roughly. "Ouch!" Toshiro grunts.

"You're such a pervert, Mr. Emoji," she glares.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Toshiro pleads; the soccer-star pulls his ear harder and he shouts in pain. "Okay, okay! I'll stop!"

The room goes silent as the soccer-star releases his ear—the singer retreats to tend to the aching flesh with a small smile on his lips. It seems like he and Karin haven't changed—they could still act like they did when they were children, but this time they were more intimate and kissing wasn't a form of cooties.

Yoruichi sighs happily for the two—they were exactly like herself and her professor in school. They'd goof-around, bicker, beat-up on each other and act like children. She loved those moments of love—they were the purest.

"Karin. Toshiro," the radio host says; they both perk. "What's some of things you'd like to tell the audience about love, while we're on the air?"

Karin and Toshiro look over each other with a sparkling eye—there's lots to tell about love.

"Well, Yoruichi-senpai. I know I'm not that experienced in the field of love—but who is?" Karin starts with a starry smile. "I can tell everyone that love is magical, that it's complete happiness, but that's a lie."

"Yeah," Toshiro pitches in. "Love is like Rome—"

"You mean relationships are like Rome, right?" Karin corrects.

"See," Toshiro points to his girlfriend with a proud smile. "This wasn't built in a day, it took years, tears, arguments, comfort and lots of watermelon. But at the end of the day… I know that all that work got me to this point. Now I've got a girlfriend who's my other-half—she knows everything about me, and not just the fame. I couldn't ask for anything else."

Karin grips the singers hand tightly with joy—she never expected him to be _this_ deep, especially in public. "You know Yoruichi-senpai"—the host flinches to reality— "when you find that one person who's like your missing-link, you shouldn't let them go, even if you think its lost hope. There's been plenty of fights where I wanted to just waltz out of Toshiro's life," Karin's eyes lock with his as he drops his gaze, "but I know that I can't live without this stubborn, egotistical, flirtatious womanizer—even if I tried."

"I'd find you," Toshiro jokes, "Once you became my best-friend, you signed a contract. I own you."

"I don't think so," Karin rebuts. "I've got enough dirt on you to make the press explode."

"Same goes to you, Nosepicker," Toshiro casually sighs.

"Shut your lips, Bed-wetter!"

"I was a kid!" Toshiro chuckles.

"I stopped in grade two," Karin causal states.

"Obviously we know _way_ too much about each other," the singer snickers with his eyes narrowed onto Karin. "I can't put anything by you."

The soccer-player winks and kisses the singers cheek, "that just means: you've got to work harder with me," her breath whispers against his flesh.

"It's worth it," he grins; wrapping an arm around her shoulders, Toshiro pulls her close.

 _._

 _._

 _Why not?_

 _._

 _._

Two brilliant eyes look over the shabby apartment—it wasn't a lot, but it wasn't too much for just the two of them—it's all they needed.

A ghostly shadow from the television illuminates her features whilst she sits on the maroon colored couch. Her eyes casted to the white table lined with glass and bright flowers. Slowly her orbs move to the fireplace with burning oak while the television sat above.

Usually these things would comfort her and put her mind at ease, but not now—if anything they made it worse.

The petite woman brings her knees to her chest, laying her head on her leg the grey track-pants ripple for their over-sized measurements.

Her mind wonders to her love—Ichigo. They've been through enough to be unstoppable. Heck, they're known as the magic making couple because of their teamwork in the film business—but could they make _this_ into another astonishing film?

First of all, Ichigo's terrified of her older brother (who isn't? )—how's he supposed to tell Byakuya any of the news? Secondly, they're always working—there isn't one day of the week she and her love weren't on a set with stars. B… But are they ready?

Marriage is huge! Could she and someone as dense as Ichigo, really make a marriage work?

"Rukia,"—her thoughts snap in two as the front-door closes and the familiar sound of shuffling can be heard. "Where are you hiding?" Ichigo sigh while placing his filming gear against a wall.

He tosses his jacket onto the hanger and heads into the living room—Rukia tense upon catching a glance of him. "Midget… is something wrong?" Ichigo asks as he walks over to her sitting form.

The raven haired woman grunts when her lover's swift movement lays her back against the cushions, allowing him to be on top. She knows he did this so she couldn't get away—he could stop her either way from the top view.

One of her tiny hands caresses his cheek while her violet eyes stare into his—she's always loved those amber eyes; how they look into her soul with pure emotions and can strip her bare.

Ichigo's eyes blink when she buries her face into his chest. "Now, I know something is up," he states—never would she do that if everything were completely fine; Rukia isn't that _kind_ of woman—never was and never will be. "Tell me what's wrong," he demands.

"Strawberry, would you still love me if I quit directing?"—he's shocked by her sudden question—she loves directing films and making fantasies come to life; why would she—

"Don't be stupid, Rukia," he sighs; pressing his forehead against hers, he looks into her big eyes. "I fall in love with you before you became a director. I don't care if you're a director or the president—you're still the same woman I fall for through a camera lens."

Her hearts at ease for a short moment, but another question comes to mind that gets pushed aside. "Ichigo, I think after this music video that I'm going to take a break from directing," she says timidly.

"Is there a reason for that?" he whispers.

She nods her head and casts her eyes to the flames of the fireplace. "We… can't do this anymore."

"What?" he suddenly pulls back. "Rukia, if this is about me eating the last piece of chocolate cake in the fridge—I'll go out and buy another one—"

"You ate _my_ last piece of cake?!" the midget shouts.

"I'll go get another one, just—don't leave me," he pleads into her neck.

"I'm not leaving you idiot," Rukia sternly tells him. "I'm talking about our filming duo."

"Oh," he says in relief and sighs against her skin. "If you ever leave me… tell me where you're going, because I'm coming with you."

She tangles her fingers through his orange-locks and tugs them softly. "That would defeat the purpose of leaving," Rukia chuckles.

"I know that," he mutters into her t-shirt. "But, I can't think of life where you aren't in it."

"Don't be such a cheesy poet," she smiles while poking his cheek childishly. "What happened to my professional stalker who showed me whose boss in bed?"

He captures her pinks lips with him—roughly dancing with her mouth he hears her mule in pleasure. "Trust me he's still here… waiting to pounce," Ichigo snickers with a wink.

"Before he's pounces on me, can we talk about something?"—he didn't like the tone in her voice or the weary aura around her.

"Okay, let's talk," he sits up.

 _._

 _._

 _._

* * *

 _There isn't an image for this chapter, but I'm sorry about the wait!  
I haven't edited this yet, so bear with the mistakes please, I've been working a tone—well, kind of—it's more like I'm writing stories on the side: fan fic's, my own book and chapters for other stories in progress. Plus, I've been having writers block for this story a little! But here it is!_

 _Tell me what you think—seriously, I like to hear your feed-back!_

 ** _R &R_**

 _Until next chapter, BleachLover2346_


	15. Chapter 14

_~ Why not? ~_

Leaves crunch under her red-rubber-boots as she scurries towards the faded-yellow slide where _he_ waits for her.

"Toshiro! Toshiro," she voicelessly shouts—her tiny body struggles to climb-up the play-ground ladder, but she manages to get to the top.

Her bulky blue and red winter-coat ruffles as she sits next to the boy sitting at the edge of the fire-pole.

He greets her with a bright boyish smile as his kicks his feet in the air—her bright eyes look over his green-jacket, one his grandmother forced him into, along with a pair of jeans and power-ranger sneakers.

"You got a new hat?" he says peering at the white and red fabric sitting on her raven-hair.

"Yeah! Ichi-nii got it for me!" the girl says happily through her chubby cheeks and red-mittens. "What happened to your cheek?"

The boy blinks as she brushes the cut on his large cheeks with her red-mitt. "Oh," he perks cutely, "Neko-chan and I were playing."

"But, Neko-chan scratched you, Shiro," she pouts while crossing her arms over her chest.

"Well—Nana says: Neko-chan doesn't like playing boats in the bath-tub," he grins with his big-blue eyes on her as his white locks swirl in the breeze. "But it's okay, Kar-chan. I and Neko-chan are still friends."

"I don't like that she hurt you, tho," the little-girl pouts. "Neko-chan's a meanie."

"No, Neko-chan is Neko-chan—just like you're Kar-chan," he says with his hands holding girls cheeks. "That will never change!"

"You'll never leave me, Shiro-chan?" she asks.

"Never," he sternly states, "Promise!"—sticking out his pinky-finger to the girl he leans forward.

"Forever and ever, I promise!" she squeals as their pinkies interlock.

.

.

"Cut!" Rukia suddenly shouts to the kids and instantly the cameras stop rolling. "Good-work, Kei and Jinro," she calls out to the two kids as they climb off the play-ground. "Take a break."

Karin and Toshiro watch the tiny-versions of themselves slide down the slide with gleeful laughter. "When the heck were you going to tell me you have a daughter that looks just like you?" the singer hisses to the soccer-player as she stares astonished at the two children.

"Better yet: did one of your one night-stand lead to mini-you being creating?" she raises a brow at the singer who tense while shivers run down his spine.

"Let's hope none pop-up," he grunts in displeasure.

"You don't want kids?" she raises a brow to her best-friend as he watches the mini-Karin run into her mother's arms.

"No, no, "he sighs heavily. "I want kids, but not right now."

The soccer-player smirks for his response and looks over to her brother as he rushes to Rukia's side with juice and crackers. "I don't think kids would be so bad," she casually says.

Toshiro looks over to his girlfriend in question, "Are you trying to tie me down with a little-demon right now? Cause, Kar, I'll tell you right now—I'd be a shitty-father at the moment."

"I don't want kids right now, but a few years down the road when I'm like thirty," the soccer-star laughs. "By then I should've found Mr. Right."

"You're looking at him" the play-boy says before grasping her hands.

Karin chuckles as she gives his palm a slight squeeze, "You're saying: you want to marry me, having kids and get old with me? Toshi, you're in for some irritating years if that's the case."

The singer smirks, pulls the soccer-player into a head-lock and rubs her locks with his knuckle. "I've put up with it for this long, I think I can keep going," Toshiro laughs as the soccer-player growls in displeasure.

"Cut it, Mr. Emoji!" she snaps.

"Nah. I kind of like being in control and having you down there," the play-boy winks.

Karin narrows her eyes for his comment and glares, "Hentai! (Pervert)" exclaims—with a swift kick to his feet the singer releases and falls to his back with a slight moan.

Toshiro blink as the raven-beauty looks over his fallen form with her hands on her hips. "You're lucky I'm used to you because if I weren't I would've left your ass a _long_ time ago."

The singer chuckles as he sits up with a grin, "I know you love me too much."

Karin blushes as she looks away from the male, "Shut-up, Mr. Emoji."

In the distance Rukia looks over the couple from her seat as Ichigo stand behind her—hand firmly placed on her back as he rubs her spine. "Something wrong, Midget?" he whisper into her ear.

The petite woman swiftly grabs his nipple through his shirt and twists the flesh—Ichigo yelps in pain for her attack. "Don't call me a midget, got it Strawberry?" the director calmly says with her eyes still on the two in the distance. "I'm just thinking about something."

"What would this something be?" the editor rubs his chest softly.

Rukia leans against her arm and sighs, "Do you think two people can stay happy forever?"

Ichigo perks for her question, throws his arms around his lover and nuzzles his nose into her neck "I know that life brings difficulties and those times make people stronger and closer," he whispers.

The raven-haired woman looks into his amber eyes with sad-look, "Do you think _this_ is our difficult time?"—she didn't want to hear: yes come from his lips, but she needed to know before it was too late. "Because, we still have time to get out of this—"

" _This_ is a blessing—something I can't imagine living without," he kisses her cheek tenderly, "I finally get to tie you down and make you _completely_ mine, Kuchiki Rukia."

"You're a complete narcissist under-cover," Rukia says leaning her head back against his chest. "What the hell I'm I getting myself into?"

"I don't know," he mumbles into her hair, "you should've known I was a creep when I started stalking you from the bushes just for money."

Rukia cracks a smile and looks into his brilliant orbs, "It was a total turn-on."

"Now who's the narcissist?" he raises a brow.

"Watch yourself," she warns.

"You two need to get a room," a sudden voice says from in front of them—both look forward to see Toshiro and Karin staring at their scene of affection. "You might corrupt the kids minds," the soccer-player points to the two children playing the distance.

The duo looks over to the children and hold their breath before alerting their eyes to the ground, "Fuck" they say in unison.

Toshiro notices their aura, looks over to his girlfriend who seems to notice the change as well. "Something wrong with you two?" he asks while staring at them both.

Rukia shakes her head and slide off her seat, "Nope, I've got to pee."

"That's the tenth time today," Karin bluntly states to the director, "Did your bladder shriek or did my brother manage to penetrate it during sex?" the soccer-player jokes.

The director waves off her tease and continues walking away, "Something like that," she calls out as she walks towards the bathrooms.

Karin looks over to her brother as he watches the petite-director vanish into the washroom. "What the hell did you do?" she snaps—Toshiro tense for the intense glare coming from the soccer-star. "Honestly, what the fuck did you manage to do to Rukia?"

Ichigo raises a brow for her hostile question, "Excuse me?"

"I _know_ you did something to her," the female narrows her eyes, "so tell me before I beat it out of you."

Ichigo bites his lip while keeping his eyes on the bathroom door, "It's between I and Rukia, so drop it Karin," he tells his sister but she steps forward.

"I don't think so," the soccer-player crosses her arms over her chest. "Rukia is like my sister—just like Toshiro feels like a brother to you—so, I sort of deserve an answer when it comes to her. Also, you're my older brother—one that's an idiot at times (May I add), and with a woman who's brother could kill you at any moment. So, tell me before I find your body floating down Tokyo-Bay."

Toshiro looks over the orange-haired editor's face—it's glowing slightly in the studio's lights, filled with questions and worries for something. "You're stressing or worried over something, Ichigo," the singer says with a soft frown. "As a dude, what's wrong?"

Ichigo sighs before rubbing the back of his neck, "Rukia's taking a break from directing," he states softly.

Karin's face harden for the news—she never imagined the woman dropping this career; she seemed to love it so much. "Why?" the soccer-player squeaks softly. "Rukia loves directing."

"I know, but sometimes you need to put things on hold and look at everything before taking the next step," the editor says still look at the bathroom door—within a few minutes Rukia walks out with a paper towel drying her hands with her cheeks flushed. "Besides, things will change."

"Are you worried about working with someone other than Rukia?" Toshiro questions.

Ichigo shakes his head and looks over the couple, "I've already got someone that wants me to work with them," he answers. "Apparently Byakuya's seen my work and how I work with Rukia—he wants me to work with him while Rukia is on her break."

"Wow, working with the best now," Karin blinks in amazement.

"Yup, but, I'm more worried about Rukia than anything," Ichigo states as the direct comes back to the group. "Everything alright in there?" he asks his girlfriend.

Rukia looks over the group and nods, "yeah, they need to clean the sink though—it's disgusting," she adds. "But, better yet…" the director trails as she looks over the three, "is everything okay here? Everyone's so serious and depressed."

Ichigo places a hand on her shoulder, "I told them you're taking a break from directing."

Karin looks over the woman and steps forward, "Why, Rukia-chan?"

Rukia looks over the two and sighs, "I and Ichigo are too busy, and so I'm taking a break."

"That doesn't make sense," Toshiro chirps from the side. "You two work together—"

Rukia interrupt with a slight narrow eye, "You can't raise a baby when both parents are busy with filming and producing. It's not fair to the child."

The soccer-star flinches for the news while her eyes widen, "W-What? Baby?"

Ichigo nods with a soft grin on his lips, "Yup, I'm going to be dad. Shocking right?"

Toshiro looks over to his gapping girlfriend as she put the piece-together—her mind rattled with though of her brother (an idiot, stubborn-ass and overprotective guy) being a dad—then there was Rukia, the ying to Ichigo's yang but with more similarities than possible.

"I think you broke Karin," the singer says—it scares him a bit, the silence from his girlfriend. Usually she wasn't this quiet when it came to news like this—usually she would have some kind of witty comment and joke to follow-through, but it seems like there wasn't anything coming from the vixen.

"B-Baby…Ichigo… Rukia?" the faint whispers of Karin sets Toshiro off slightly—now he's truly frightened for her.

"Come on, we're going for a walk," he takes her hand and slowly she follows after him.

"Baby?" the raven-haired woman questions silently.

.

.

 _Why not?_

 _._

 _._

Her brown eyes look over the ratings—yet another television show brought down in viewers this week and according to her manager her movie sales have dropped greatly.

She can't find the reasoning behind it all—nothing has changed with her acting and how she portrays her characters—the directors still love it and tell her to keep up the hard work on set. Yet the sales and polls tell a totally different story.

The actress can't put her finger on it and either could her manager—both women are frustrated with the polls and have no idea what the hell is going on.

"This doesn't make any sense," the woman sighs in aggravation—papers flutter through the air of her home and onto the wooden floor effortlessly—it was nearly mocking to her fast crumbling career.

"Hmm?" a strong hum sings from the male draped in a towel while drying his hair. "What are these, Momo?" he asks while grabbing a discarded sheet.

"My polls for this week," she bitterly replies with a narrow eye on the paper.

"What are they usually?" the brunette male questions as his eyes look over the polls and numbers.

"I usually have over fifty-thousand views for a television show. My sales on movies are around ten-million and then others is quite high as well," the actress pouts while swirling her glass of red-wine in her hand.

"From these polls you've dropped over thirty percent this week alone," the manager informs her and takes a seat. "Have you been doing anything different in your work?"

"Nope, still the same as always," she answers.

"What has happened this week?" Aizen points to the date, "Especially on this day."

Momo blinks rapidly for the date— _Tuesday_ —the same date she and Toshiro broke up she lost five-percent of her viewers. "Give me that," she snatches the data from the man and looks closely—on Friday and Saturday her viewers dropped the most—those were the days Karin and Toshiro started becoming big in the tabloids. "Are you fucking kidding me?" she bitterly chuckles with a sly grin.

"What is it?" Aizen sighs while leaning into the couch.

"Tell me, Aizen, how are Toshiro's polls since the break-up and his get together with Karin?" Momo growls slightly.

"Well, from the break-up he lost three-percent in record sales, but that changed drastically since Friday and Saturday where he nearly tripled in sales," the manager recalls.

"When did he get together with Kurosaki?" the actress narrows her eyes for the name—she's _really_ starting to hate the soccer-star. "Friday right? Right after the celebrity ball."

"That's about right—what are you getting at, darling?" he leans over to his girlfriend.

"It seems that since my little break-up with the play-boy model, I've lost far _too_ much fan-base and he's gained more with that new _puppy_ at his side," Momo nearly hisses through her teeth with anger. "I refuse to let my career be flushed down the toilet because of Kurosaki Karin—"

"Momo, Karin doesn't necessarily have anything to do with this—"

"She does!" the actress snaps. "Toshiro has shown me his polls before and we've compared. I get that he's a model, singer and occasional actor from time-to-time, but those polls went through the roof whenever that _damn_ soccer-bitch is by his side!"

"Are you telling me that my clients success if being driven by his childhood best-friend?" Aizen nearly laughs.

Momo crosses her arms over her chest with an unsatisfied eye. "The public is a sucker for these kind of stories—the whole childhood love—it's adorable and completely innocent in their eyes. Now that Karin and Toshiro are together the public gets to read all about it in the magazines. Before you know it, talk-shows all over Japan will be buzzing for the couple to appear on camera to just _talk_ , talk about their childhood and some cutesy-shit."

Aizen is silent for her assumption since it's mostly correct—Toshiro has been getting a lot more fame since Karin became his lover—not to mention the constant calls from reporters and radio-host asking to have him on their shows, but with the soccer-player as well.

"Where are you going with this?" the manager questions.

Momo bits her lips roughly—she didn't want to get to this conclusion but it must be done. "I have to convince Toshiro to get back with me."

 _._

 _._

 _Why not_

 _._

 _._

A snort comes from the singers throat as his eyes linger on the screen—the commercial continues to repeat—the same one he and Karin worked together to produce.

"I still come believe they wanted us to say that," he hears next to him—glancing over his eyes land on the soccer-player clad in his dress-shirt with a pair of her short-yoga shorts. "I mean: keep it clean? I think we could've done something way better," she laughs while shoveling another spoonful of ice-cream into her mouth.

" _I can't get enough of this sight,"_ Toshiro's mind chirps as his bright eyes look over her perking collar-bone and glowing face—he wants to devour her right here… right now. "What do you think would be more original for us?" he purrs.

Karin's eyes lock with his and she leans forward slight with a cute tilt of her head. "Something like: _too clean for this pod_ ," she suggests—her eyes look over his nude torso and the shameful pajama pants. "What about you?"

Toshiro smirks, "We aren't _that_ squeaky clean," he winks.

Karin sighs roughly for his words—he's referring to the sex, well his endless sexual encounters with women since she can count/name all the men she's been with. "Was it that great? Because you won't shut-up about it."

The singer swiftly rolls on top of Karin, pins her to the white-sheets and looks down into her big-grey eyes. "It was— _amazing_ ," he whispers; her cheeks flush for his reply and her eyes dart away from the play-boy.

Suddenly the singer tickles the soccer-players neck and she bucks with laughter. "Tos—Hahah!" she bursts but doesn't stop. "S-Stop it!" Karin laughs.

"Not a chance, Kurosaki," he whispers into her delicate ear. "Not until you tell me the truth about what you thought of _that night."_

The laughing of the soccer-star roars through the cameras—the set-workers watch in amazement for the two—they're both completely emerged in their own little world.

"Okay! Okay!" Karin finally shouts and the singer stops quickly. "If I tell you will you stop talking about it?"

"Like hell I will!" Toshiro snaps. "That was great! I'm going to gloat until I can't anymore—"

"It was great for me too," she interrupts. Toshiro's eyes widen for her confession, "Even though I was completely drunk it was great," the soccer-star blushes along with the singer. "I didn't think that after so many years of wanting to keep that record going that I'd miss out of such an _amazing_ night."

"Karin…" he whispers with hooded eyes.

The soccer-player is silent, "Don't get all soft and cutesy on me, Mr. Emoji," she says.

"Oi!" the singer exclaims as the soccer-star rolls him onto his back and locks him in place. "What the heck? I should be on top."

"Just because you weight more than me doesn't mean you can crush me with your weight!" Karin snaps.

"I wasn't crushing you, baka" he chuckles.

"I could barely breathe," the woman falsely sobs. "I could see my life flashing before my eyes—there was so much annoyance from being around you—ack!"

A sudden roll onto the mattress causes Karin to shout. "You couldn't live without me just admit it."

Karin rolls her eyes, "Sounds like you've become cocky."

"Come on, Kar-chan, just admit it: you couldn't live without me in your life," he leans in closer to her lips. The singer's breath could be felt on her flesh and she tenses. "Admit the truth."

"If I don't?" she raises a brow.

"I'll tickle you till you can't _truly_ breathe," he snickers and the soccer-star gives a daring eye.

"I won't admit shit, Mr. Waterfall," she teases and the tickling began once again.

 _._

 _._

 _._

Image of the chapter: a little girl in a white-hat and winter-jacket.

Sorry for the long wait.

R&R

Until next time, Bleachlover2346


	16. Chapter 15

_~ Why not? ~_

Everything is grey like roaring storm-clouds. Her heels _click_ loudly within the isolated bridge—the grey cobble stone pathway and dim light coming from the many post doesn't lighten her mood; she's still pissed.

Shoving her hands into her black jacket she stares ahead—never in her wildest dreams did she think she'd have to go to the press. _She_ , the "angel" of all actress, going to some greasy and sleazy reporter? But it wasn't just any reporter it was one she knew well—her ex-boyfriend.

Throughout her years of being an actress she thought she had escaped the sleaze-ball for good—that she would never need to find him again after their break-up, but she was wrong… so _very_ wrong apparently.

At first she thought it would be easy to end Toshiro and the soccer-bitches relationship; how hard could it be? Apparently it's harder than steal since there's literally nothing bad she could dig-up about them—Karin knows' everything (and more) about the play-boy. How the hell is she going to destroy something _perfect_ if there's no lies or secrets? She can't.

Momo narrows her eyes as she looks at the dark-door in front of her; she was about to do something she will regret forever, but it's worth it—she needs the money—she needs her fans and job; without it she might as well become a failing waitress once again.

 _Knock! Knock!_ Her fist echoes against the wooden frame—instantly there's rustling from the other side along with a miserable groan.

"Who is it?" a tired voice asks from the other side.

"Nao," she snaps in irritation, "open the fucking door."

The male on the other side smirk for the voice—it's the same one he could recall from their nights of passion and the multiple shows and movies she's starred in.

"Momo, my little waitress," he smirks; she narrows her eyes greatly as he opens the door to reveal his face. "I've missed you doll-face."

 _._

 _._

 _~Why not? ~_

 _._

 _._

A nostalgic scent—a smell she's always loved and can recognize in a heartbeat. The scent of a hot summers' day, cinnamon and sweat mixed with a hint of aftershave. It's the signature essence of Ichigo Kurosaki.

The warmth of his bare chest heats her nude body—his large fingers slowly trance patterns on her bare-back as she listens to the _pitter-patter_ of his strong heart. A slight _crinkle_ comes from the grey sheets as she pulls them further onto their bodies.

"Ichigo," Rukia says softly—he answers with a hum and looks down into her shimmering violet eyes. "Can I tell you a secret?"

The red-head bends down and captures her lips gently making her mind relax upon the touch—his palm cups her cheek as she slowly inhales his aroma once more. "You can tell me anything," he whispers; feeling her lashes on his cheeks he gives a softened look.

Biting her lip gently Rukia looks into his amber eyes. "I'm scared," she admits in a small-voice; Ichigo tenses for the news.

Never—not in a million years—has Rukia Kuchiki admitted she's afraid or scared of something. It was against the Kuchiki family code (if anything).

"What are you afraid of, midget?" Ichigo asks.

Her indigo orbs looks over the moon-kissed room as she closes her eyes. "Putting my career on hold," she states. "The music-video is over now…a-and what if this was my only chance or time to actually get to a point where I can stand next to my brother and prov—"

"Rukia," he stops her; she hold her breath for his serious tone. "No matter what happens, I'll be here to support you and make sure that you have more opportunities."

The petite director grins slightly for his words before laying a butterfly-kiss on Ichigo's muscular chest. "Besides," the editor starts up again, "if it doesn't work out then you'll become my personal housewife."

Rukia smirks for the suggestion. "Last time I cooked for you, you had to go to the hospital; remember?"

"I'll just throw you into some cooking-classes before the baby's born. Then, you'll be the perfect housewife," Ichigo teases. "Besides, seeing you in an apron makes me extremely horny."

Rukia scoffs for the news and flicks his chest. "Why didn't you tell me that earlier? I would've just started wearing one around the house."

"God, I love you woman," he purrs under his breath; pressing his lips against hers' he brings pulls her further up his body and rolls her petite form onto the mattress with ease.

As the kiss begins to deepen Rukia wraps her legs around his torso and his lips trail down her neck. "Baby…" she moans, "give me some time… to prepare myself… for round three."

"A little foreplay should do just the trick," Ichigo growls into her ear; running his teeth over her lobe the petite-woman holds her breath in pleasure.

"B-But… I still need to talk to you about something," she feels him release her ear and opens her eyes to see the tanned-male above her. "That actually worked?" she whispers to herself.

"What is it?" Ichigo asks eagerly.

Rukia sighs as she looks over the darkened bedroom, "Nii-sama—"

"Rukia we said: no talking about your brother when in bed or when we're making-love, remember?" Ichigo interrupts.

"I know, but, I still have to remind you that you have to pick him up tomorrow at the airport, Baka," Rukia argues.

"Oh yeah…" he sighs; laying his head in-between her small breast he sighs. "Remind me: why he's coming back to Tokyo?"

Running her fingers through his orange-locks she looks up to the ceiling. "He's working on a new project, plus, he's going to be using you in the making. Be a little bit more enthusiastic about him coming back."

"Yay," Ichigo dulls jokes; she slaps his back playfully.

"Besides, my brother's the least of your worries," Rukia chirps; he peers up from her breast with a questionable gaze. "What? I just have a bad feeling."

"You always have a bad feeling about something," he laughs, "but now, it's referred to as morning-sickness and pregnancy-cravings."

"Ha-ha-ha—very funny."

"I know, I should've been a comedian."

"Yeah for the dead, you moron."

"Stop hating, midget."

"I'm not hating. I'm just worried about Karin"—upon hearing the mention of his sister, he looks up at the raven-haired woman.

"What about her?" he snaps.

"Didn't you notice it at the shoot?" Rukia asks, "Something was bugging her—even Toshiro noticed. I know trade-offs' are coming up soon, but, then again I've been hearing rumors about Momo—"

"What rumors?" he asks.

"Apparently, according to the press, her polls have been dropping since Karin and Toshiro have started dating," she states. "And you should know some of the crazy-shit actresses pull when they are losing their fan-base"—they will pull anything and everything to keep their fans.

He sighs heavily—even though he's worried about his sister, there are bigger things he had to worry about first, like his child and the preparations he and the petite-woman have to still make before the baby arrives.

As the silence fills the bedroom Ichigo listening to her heart and runs a ghostly-fingers over her stomach—he couldn't fathom that in a matter of months her flat-stomach would be big and plump.

"Hey Ichigo?" she calls out slightly; he nods in response. "What would you've of done if we had broken-up before I found out that I'm pregnant?"

His brows frail for the questions; intertwining his fingers with hers and thinks over his answer. "I would commit to being a father and marry you most-likely."

"And what if you found someone else after we broke-up?"

"Well… I would probably choose you over them," he admits. "That's how my father raised me and you're the mother of my child. I understand the other person might be fine with the situation, but, I know that one day they will get jealous and feel out-of-place. Why?"

She's silent for a moment. "Just wondering."

 _._

 _._

 _~ Why not? ~_

 _._

 _._

Salty—moist and the slight scent of either cheap body-perfume or wavering laundry detergent covered the facility. It's the aroma of dedication—the burning of anger/frustration—even a battle or two for everyone within the walls of the building.

For the soccer-star… it's a release of worry, confusion, anger and sadness.

Her muscles ripple as she increases the speed of the treadmill—lungs burning like hot-ambers—skin glowing as the different branches of sweat dance down her body like off-setting rivers on a mountain. The baggy shirt on her torso is soaked with her bodily-fluids, the tight spank-like shorts stick to her burning thighs.

The music from her phone kills the noise of the other women in the gym—she didn't want to hear their agony—she had her own problem to work-through, like the season ending and the trade-offs'. As the end of the song rings in her ears she feels her vision blur, and the sound of her coaches voice in her ear from earlier.

He had pulled her aside at the end of the meeting about the trade-offs'. At first she thought it was going to be good-news about her spot being secured on the team, but instead she got the worst. _"Kurosaki, it seems like there's a country interested in you,"_ —after that, everything was silent and numb.

Karin stops the treadmill—face dripping of sweat and heavy-panting covers the music as she wobbles off the machine, and begins to wipe away her prints.

Her mind was focused on the machine as the different options float around her mind like clouds—she didn't notice the woman calling her name behind her until she taps her sweaty shoulder. Turning quickly Karin's eyes rest on the goalie in front of her—from the slight after-work-out glow on her skin she could tell the woman had been at the gym for the same reason, to burn her emotions away.

Nel looks over her team-mates blank face with concern—she's been watching Karin since she got to the gym. She's noticed the intense atmosphere around the woman and how she was in a daze—not to mention the fact: she saw their coach talking to Karin after the meeting.

"Hey," Karin sighs while collecting her personal-items.

Nel notices the shaking in the raven-haired woman's arms. "Want to get some smoothies together?"

Karin grins for the suggestion, "sounds good to me."

.

.

The sun is high in the sky as the warm-breeze blows and the sound of seagulls curse the air. Both soccer-players sit at a table outside the gym—smoothies in hand and fully-clothed.

Nel looks over Karin as she sips on her drink and looks over the plastic-lid, avoiding eye-contact.

"Wanna' tell me what's wrong?" Nel sighs while staring out at the parking-lot.

Karin bites her lips roughly as her stomach twists for the news she's about to deliver. "The coach spoke to me after the meeting," her voice is filled with dread.

"I saw that," Nel smirks; her eyes land on the team-captain only to see a distant and saddened look.

Silence falls on the table—causing Nel's heart to race; Karin's never really this quiet around her—it's been that way since they met. "Karin?" she charms; the said-woman tenses slightly for the use of her name.

"I'm in the high-risk-zone for trade-offs'," Karin simply says without connecting with Nel's eyes.

"W-what?" the goalie stutters; Nel couldn't fathom the team with Karin. She's their star-player—their Captain—without her it wouldn't be the team it is today. How could this be happening?

"A countries been eyeing me for a while apparently," Karin holds her breath at the thought.

"What country?" Nel barely manages to say due to the shock still coursing through her veins.

"Switzerland"—one of their biggest rivals in the soccer-legal. The Swedish have been known to have some of the best players, coaches and training regiments in the legal.

"Shit…" Nel hisses; she knows, better than the rest of the team, that Switzerland knew how to get what they want—even if it meant millions of dollar; there was no way Japan would pay that much for Karin to stay on the team. "What about Toshiro and the life you've built here in Japan?"—Karin shrugs; she thought about it over and over again in her head, but no solution seems to be coming to mind.

When it comes to Toshiro, he had so many things here that were going for him: his career as a singer and model, his grandmother back in Karakura town and the different opportunities that were still rolling into his lap—there was no way she was going to be the reason he lets' everything pass-by.

Then there's her brother and Rukia—she didn't want to leave and barely know her future niece or nephew—she wanted to be here and spoil them like any regular Aunt.

But, she worried the most about her team—they were like her family away from her own. She loved the women on the team like sister, especially Nel and some of the others' that would speak to her on the field and at practices. Karin had made something in Japan—something she didn't want to leave.

"You don't have to continue with soccer though," Nel tries; Karin smirks for the thought.

"That true," she sighs—Karin had thought about it already; becoming a professional model, even signing with play-boy since they offered her a contact after her shoot with Toshiro—but, she didn't like the overload of make-up and the constant worry about her body. Then there's the filming business—she could become an actress, but then again, she didn't want to be in the same field as the Psychotic-Momo.

"But…" Karin's voice trails as she notices the Hummer in the distance,"… soccer is my life."

As the Hummer continues to get closer Nel's mind scrambles for what to say next—she had heard the stories about Karin's love for soccer—it's been this way since she was a little girl and her father would kick around the ball in the back-yard. But, she was more concerned for the outcome of Karin and Toshiro's relationship—a huge relocation to Switzerland and a long-distance-relationship.

"If you get traded, do you think Toshiro will follow you?" Nel asks—the air goes quiet once again as the Hummer pulls up and the said-singer steps out of the vehicle.

 _._

 _._

 _~ Why not? ~_

 _._

 _._

Her hazelnut eyes scroll through the different articles and emails across the computer-screen—there were way too many for simply a week, but the biggest were about some major stars (mostly) Byakuya Kuchiki.

She leans back in her dining-room chair and sighs deeply. The last time she saw the Kuchiki super-star was in college when she'd bug-the-shit-out of him. It was a simple time, when Byakuya wasn't jumping all over the place with career choice—when Hisana was alive and she was hopelessly in love with someone who was out of reach.

Upon thinking of the past her gaze snaps to the picture sitting in the middle of the table. As she takes a gulp of her red-wine she takes the frame in her hand—the image was one of glory, a real beauty and portrait of love.

Her eyes water slightly for the image: her youthful-self sitting on a large rock with a big and bright smile—his arms wrapped around her shoulders, head resting on hers' as they stare out to the setting-sun.

"Where are you?" she whispers as a tear creeps down her cheek.

Urahara Kisuke: her first and only love—a genius in a teachers position. The radio-host met him in her first year of college—he was her communications and liberal arts professor. At first she thought nothing of him, but then one-night when she fell asleep in the computer lab she was awakened by his kind hand placing a blanket over her body.

Their relationship started as professor and student—then gradually turned into close-friends—and by the end of her college years she and Urahara were having a secret love-affair, one filled with many late-night sessions in his office, his/her apartment and anywhere they could be alone.

It was an addictive and dangerous love—one that only occur in the press or in erotic-books. But, as the year went by they grew stronger, so strong he asked to marry her.

Looking down to the simple silver band with an ivory-pearl in the center she grins sheepishly—but soon the grin drops. Their relationship was a secret from everyone but a few people because of his status—Urahara would lose his job if the dean found out of his affiliation with a student; it's be complete taboo.

Even though they were happy something—no, someone happened. A student by the name: Soi-fon. She was in love with Yoruichi since High-school and when finding out of relationship she told the dean.

In a matter of a week: Urahara lost his job—she was threatened to be kicked out of her program and they were being monitored. Her family wasn't impressed and tightened their reins on their daughter, even arranged a marriage for her, one she couldn't get out of… no matter how much she tried.

Luckily she communicated with Urahara through Byakuya—and on her graduation day she had a plan: she would leave her family and run-away with him. He could get a job in another city and they could live happily ever after.

That night she ran-away from home with a single suit-case and all the money she would find and went to their meeting place: the train-station.

She waited on the platform—as trains passed he never showed and her heart broke; Yoruichi then took the final train to Tokyo—there was no way she would go back to her family.

Now, years later, she searches for the blonde-professor but it's like he was swept off the face of the planet.

Yoruichi gulps the last of her wine and looks over the headlines—when she scrolls further through the articles she stops: _"Momo's falling?"_ —she found her interview for this week's Neko-star.

The last time she interviewed the actress was in the beginning of her career—when Momo was bigger than ketchup—but now, according to the article, she's beginning to lose her fan-base. Yoruichi knows exactly why the actress is losing fans and it's not because of her break-up with Toshiro Histugaya—it was because of the current television debut of Yuzu Kurosaki on a new show called: ' _Stitches and Bitches'—_ not to mention the movie release of Byakuya Kuchiki's first featured film. The poor actress was competing with the best-of-the-best.

Her fingers rapidly _click_ on the keyboard as she types the email to her producers and to Momo's manager.

 _._

 _._

 _._

 _Image of the chapter: a dark bridge with lap-post and building in the distance._


	17. Chapter 16

_~ Why not? ~_

Polished white-floors—a large man-made pond sits in the middle of the lobby with large Koi fish swimming about—lines of high-class chairs light the walls along with many different record-labels, awards, multiple images of artists at concerts or holding their first album cover. A large reception desk sits in the back of the room, the desk fades with different colors each second as a mix of women and men work at their computers and answer the phone.

Looking up to ceiling her eyes fill with the bubble-like lights that glow brightly—her finger-tips painfully throb in her mouth as she chews the tips. She hates waiting for people but at the moment, she just needed to talk to her brother about her relationship with her twin.

"Honestly"—she hears the sounds of long strides and hurried footsteps following; the voice is strong, powerful and intimidating. "I still don't understand why my sister choose such an idiotic fool like you."

"Watch your mouth!"—her brother; she bows her head and looks over to the sliding-glass door as the two enter the lobby. "I'm basically your family now—"

"Kurosaki," the tall and slim man turns sharply shutting the editor up. Ichigo looks into the eyes of the Kuchiki male's stone-cold slate grey orbs. "You are nothing but a sperm donor in my eyes. Once my sister wakes up from this _long_ trance you have managed to place upon her, then I will take her away and find her a proper suitor who does not have such a big, fowl, disrespectful mouth and was not some sleazy low-life press-harlot who stalked us for months on end"—the strong voice ran shivers down her spine as she listened to her brother get ripped a new asshole.

"A press-harlot?" Ichigo smirks in amusement. "Why don't you grow some Kuchiki-balls and call me a bitch for once? This is a joke, right?"

She watches as the other male growls and turns to the front—his pale white skin, long silky raven-locks and overly-expensive suit told the soccer-player exactly who the male is… Kuchiki Byakuya.

"You are such a cocky-fool," Byakuya growls before continuing through the lobby with his glasses perfectly upon his head and a book in hand.

Ichigo snarls while juggling several messes of papers—she could tell he wasn't in the big of moods, probably the worst if anything.

Byakuya scans through the tiny-velvet red book in his hand as he continues to get closer to the speechless soccer-star; when he sighs his eyes wander around the lobby. When his eyes caught-sight of Karin he tenses slightly—she seemed perfect with the quant and beautiful hints of features, her long jet-black hair tied back in a messy-bun—when he noticed her stands anxiously he nearly thought it was the heavens giving him a sign.

"Ichi-nii," she calls out to the busy red-head.

Ichigo grunts as he attempts to organize the different papers in his hands—he had tripped over his shoelace once they left the record-owners office and the papers had scattered throughout the hallway which caused the Kuchiki-successor to become pissed.

"Ichi-nii?" she repeats louder than before.

"What now—Karin?" Ichigo stops. "What are you doing here?"

Karin folds her arms over her chest. "Rukia told me that you would be here."

"Wait, you were at my apartment?" her brothers brows wrinkle for the thought. "You could've called me."

"Whatever, Rukia seemed more than happy to see me," Karin rolls her eyes—the petite woman almost jumped her when she opened the door; such actions caused the soccer-player to wonder whether Rukia's overly happy personality was because of the pregnancy or from having endless nights of sex—either way, the Kuchiki-woman was happy. "Besides, I really need to talk to you about someone _important."_

"If you're pregnant I don't want to know. I have enough on my plate with Rukia and Captain Stuck-up here," he points to Byakuya as he circles Karin with a narrow eye.

"Idiot," Byakuya says; Ichigo glares at the male with a murderous-eyes. "How do you know her?"

Karin smirks with her hands firmly placed on her hips, "she's my sister you creepy"—Ichigo answers.

"Sister, huh…"—Karin tenses once a two strong hands spin her around; her eyes meet Byakuya's cold-ones' and she holds her breath. "I guess it's true…" his words trail while examining her facial structure and neck, "the Kurosaki women get all the talent."

Silence falls in the lobby as the billionaire continues his examination of her neck—his long slim fingers delicately brush against her skin as she gets caught into a trance. "Say—Karin, was it?"—she nods stiffly. "Karin, what do you do for living?"

"I'm the Captain of the Japanese Women International Soccer Team," she proudly answers.

His lock with hers' and the brilliant-business man could slowly feel his cold-layers of heart melting away from her large shimmering dark eyes. Never, not in years, has he seen such reflective eyes—he could see the pain in heart, the frustration and happiness within her storm-like orbs.

"…Do you do anything else in the public eye?" Byakuya's fingers sweep under her eyes for the lack of bags.

"I've been in a few music-video's, on magazine covers, inside play-boy due to my boyfriend's contract and featured on Neko-Radio," Karin listens.

"Are you popular?" Byakuya questions.

Ichigo awkward shifts on his heels for the sight—he's practically watching is evil brother-in-law examine and adore his little sister. "She's only popular because of her relationship with Histugaya Toshiro, not to mention she's his best-friend—"

" _The_ Histugaya Toshiro?" Byakuya asks; stepping back he looks over her once again—everything was perfect about her…except for the extremely-popular super-star hovering over her head like a bee.

"Yes, the one and only Histugaya Toshiro," Ichigo sighs in annoyance. "Now, since you're done checking-out my little sister, you want to tell me what the fuck that was about?" he abruptly growls.

Byakuya ignores the editor and turns to Karin—taking her hands in his he notices the rawness of her finger-tips. "Are you talented like your sister?" Byakuya bothers to ask.

"Uh—it depends on what you're looking for—, "Karin sheepishly states.

"Singing," Byakuya interrupts, "song writing, acting, inputting your opinion and idea's."

"Well… I've never really sang for anyone before, but Ichi-nii used to say: I sound like a dying fox when I'm singing in the shower," Karin chuckles—she could remember her brothers constant whining and pounding on the bathroom door telling her to shut-up.

Byakuya looks over to the sly-smirk on the editor's face, "I don't trust his opinion due to his lack of brain-matter and noticeability for talent," he states in boredom; Ichigo glares for the comment. "Also, when people are in the shower they don't necessarily try, and with other siblings in the household—especially with that Strawberry—your goals are to annoy them any way possible."

Karin tenses—he's right; she only sang to annoy the shit out of her brother and sister.

"Describe your schedule in one word," Byakuya insist.

"Empty," Karin answers—the master-minds' eyes brighten slightly for the news.

"I see," Byakuya fishes into his suit and quickly pulls out a business card; using the back of the book he quickly but elegantly writes down a number. "Here is my contact information: my business, home, assistant and my cell-number on the back"—Karin freezes as she looks at the cellphone number on the back. "I wish to see whether you can sing or not, so, please contact me when you wish to seek a new-branch of your talent."

"You've got to be kidding me—Karin? Seriously?" Ichigo says in a baffled tone; Karin takes the card from the intimidating man stunned.

"Kurosaki, I'll wait for you in the car," Byakuya tells Ichigo before vanishing from the scene.

"W-What was that?" Karin whispers; her brother shrugs as he stands beside her with the pile of papers in hand.

"Seems like you just became a candidate for his project," the editor sighs while his eyes rest on the glass-doors. "Anyways, what did you _have_ to ask me about?"

Her eyes become dull—she thought about her twin daily and wondered about her well-being. Karin knew Yuzu was still living in her apartment, she could've went to see her but Karin wasn't ready to face her sister—she tried once, but Karin couldn't stomach the sight of her twin… all she could image was Yuzu and Jinta the night she found them.

"It's Yuzu," Ichigo blinks for the name.

 _._

 _._

 _Why not?_

 _._

 _._

Dark—creepy and terrifying are the best words to describe an abandoned sewage-line. The few lights on the darken-stone walls flicker as the actress quickly scrambles down the broken walk-way; she looks frantic and in a panic.

Her clothes are tattered, stained with blood and hair sticking to her face as she continues to look behind her for the _"killer"_. Camera's surround her in awe as she continues down the line—suddenly the rippling sound of a rock echoes the silence—she looks behind her anxiously as the scene proceeds.

"Cut!" the director calls from behind the camera, "good work Momo," he tells the woman; she smiles before bowing and looking back to the opening of the sewage-line.

"Everyone! Take a break! We'll continue at this the entrance," the director hollers; Momo stands with a sigh as her eyes land on the blackened figure leaning against the bricked entrance with a cigarette perched between his lips.

Momo smirks for the sight—she didn't expect someone like Noa to follow through with their deal, especially when he's a press-weasel. She didn't know how Noa, an nobody, managed to have a hold on someone who seems like a saint in the press and public-eyes—not to mention being the most known celebrity doctor in Tokyo. It's a rare sight to see him outside of his office or away from the hospital—or so the rumors say.

"Coyote Stark," Momo's voice sweetly rings his ears; the doctor looks over the actress with an emotionless eye, his semi-long hair tied in a ponytail sways in the breeze as he blows the smoke from his lips.

"Hinamori Momo," Stark smirks before flicking the cigarette onto the ground and taking another out of the package. "That snake Noa has told me plenty about you," he offers her a cigarette and the actress nods as she takes the stick from the package.

"Noa is quiet the fen," her voice is muffled as he lights the cigarette for her. "I still don't understand how he managed to get something on you, Coyote-kun"—the doctor smirks through the lingering smoky hands.

"I'm still human and I still screw-up from time-to-time" he snickers; Momo chuckles softly as she blows the smoke from her lungs.

"Apparently less than the rest of us," she comments; Stark's face hardens and so does the actress. "He went over the details with you, right?" her eyes lock with his brown-one's in a stone-cold expression.

"Yes," Stark nods before pulling out a picture from his pocket along with a paper. "These are the sheets and the first sonogram you can show him," she takes the two and stares at them intently.

The grey image looked slightly bigger than a big inside of a dark-hole—her name, the time and _"weeks"_ are marked on the bottom with white-font. "Is six-weeks enough time?" Stark asks.

Momo grins as she recalls the week before meeting Aizen—it was the last week she wasn't considered a cheater and Toshiro actually slept with her. "It's perfect. I love how real it looks," the actress chuckles; she know the play-boy singer believe her instantly.

"Because it is," Stark adds, "it's the first sonogram for a patient of mine—you might know her, Kuchiki Rukia?"

The actress snorts for the news, "How can I not? That's Karin's brother's girlfriend," Momo snickers; she couldn't think of anything better than this—she was going to destroy Karin, get her polls back and then use the soccer-stars own families baby-information. "This is going to great."

Stark narrows his eyes for the woman's smile, its' villainess—something he never thought he would see from the _"angel of acting"_. "Why do you want to do this so badly?" Stark asks as he flicks his cigarette.

Momo grins innocently before tossing the filter, "Its 'show business."

 _._

 _._

 _Why not?_

 _._

 _._

Exiting the noising change-room she grips her gym-bag tightly—she couldn't stomach it; the fact her name was being places near the top of the trade-off polls. She couldn't leave Japan—the goalie _must_ stay no matter what happens. But, she was worried about the staring-forward player and how the odds aren't in her favor either.

Walking through the corridor she isn't paying attention to her surroundings—nothing enters nor leaves her ears as she continues her way to the outside world. But as she opens the exiting door of the arena the musky smell of tobacco, vanishing cologne and leather fills her nostrils instantly making her worries disappear.

"There she is," a rough voice says to her left. Two strong arms around her waist allowing his scent to cover her senses—when she feels his lustful kisses on her sweaty neck she grins as a slight purr rounds her throat. "… You were amazing at practice today, Nel," he whispers into her flesh.

"Grim," the goalie squeals for his tightened grip; he suddenly releases his hold on her. Nel sighs softly as she looks over to the blue-haired male. "Seriously?" she raises a brow.

"Yeah, seriously," he smirks; taking her hand in his they make their way to their car.

The silence among them is sweet, but the thoughts rambling through Nels mind were being re-awakened. "Did you notice anything at practice today?" she bothers to ask; usually when he's in the bleachers with the rest of the companions he hear about many things, but also Grimmejow was an excellent observer.

He's quiet for a moment as his hand squeezes hers' lightly, "Kurosaki," he simply answers.

Her heart squeezes for Karin's name—she too noticed something was _off_ about the Captain; she didn't say much throughout the practice and stayed distant from the other players. "What about her?"

"Her attitude was different"—Nel tenses for the news and looks over to her boyfriend stunned. "She's always intense during games but not at practice—she seemed to be lost in her own world."

"How do you know that?" the goalie quickly asks.

Grimmejow looks over the parking-lot and nibbles on his bottom lip slightly as he recalls the difference in their staring-player. "Well, she had this expression her face like something was going through her mind—not to mention her extremely fast-balls during goal-practice. I mean it was insane how hard she was kick those balls."

Nel winces for the reminder; she had taken one of Karin's super-shots to the stomach and felt the life being knocked out of her body—it was frightening—along with the bruise that was mostly forming on her abs. "I know that kills when I blocked it."

Looking over her form he sighs softly, "Even Toshiro showed concern for you when you started blocking her shots"—Nel perks for the mention of the play-boy. "But, he was confused about Karin—it seems like he doesn't know what's stressing her out or making her act like this. Do you have any idea's what it might be?"

Nel halts and looks down to the cement below as she recalls the intensity of the trade-offs' this year. "The trading polls where given to use individually today," she states quietly. "They're not looking good Grimmy-bear."

Upon hearing news he peers into her face, "where are you standing?"

Nel's lips purse as she recalls the sheet and her number on the polls—she thought, since the coach didn't talk to her about the trading she was in the clearing, but apparently she was wrong (completely).

"Two," she mutters; his eyes widen for the news and he steps back slightly.

"Who's scouting you?"

"Switerzland," she holds her breath for the country—at first it was a surprise, but after a while it sunk in and she knew there was more to the trade. "I don't know why though, they have one of the best goalie's in the legal. I'm ranked fifth in the goalie standings."

"That's not the point Nel," Grim runs his fingers through his hair roughly as he thinks about the possibilities—they might as well start packing now. "We can't just leave Japan. You're mom, she's in the hospital and if we know it's a matter of time before she passes—her doctors' told us she may pass-away this year. If you get traded we won't be able to visit her or tend to her—I don't want you to feel that burden."

Nel knew all this—she thought about it constantly throughout practice. Even though it's the truth, she couldn't think about it forever.

"I know, but I'm only sitting at number two. They could drop me and I'll stay here," she tries to be positive, but they both know the chances are extremely slim.

"What are your chances of that _actually_ happening?"

"About 35/100."

 _._

 _._

 _Why not?_

 _._

 _._

He watches with worry as she climbs up the stairs to the front-door; the entire drive back was filled with silence and his constant gaze on her raw finger-tips. Toshiro wanted nothing more than to pull-over and get to the bottom of her frustration—he hates seeing her this way.

As follow close behind her his arms wrap around her waist—causing his chest to press against her slender back; he moves her long pony-tail from her neck and snuggles deeper into her skin.

"Toshi…" her voice quivers—feeling her heart race for his touch she leans her neck to the side. All her rambling thoughts become overwhelmed by her screaming feelings for the singer; she would love to be in his arms forever, to hear his sweet-voice say her name every day—to be with Toshiro was her only haven.

"You need to relax," his breath causes goosebumps to form on her neck. Feeling his hands running down her arms Karin leans farther into his touch and releases a great sigh of relief—all the weigh on her shoulder seemed to roll off like rocks. "I hate seeing you so tense and frustrating," he kisses her shoulder tenderly before intertwining his finger with hers.

Karin turns and faces the white-haired male with a content gaze in her orbs. "I don't know how to manage to do this to me every time"—playfully brushing her lips with his she smiles brightly, taking Toshiro's breath away instantly. Wrapping her arms around his neck she traces his jaw-line messily while his hands creep down from her waistline.

Toshiro's lashes stir as he looks deep into her dark-eyes; he knows that he's the only thing on her mind at that moment—that whatever was worrying her beforehand has crept out of her thoughts, which gave him a slight ping of happiness. Running his fingers through the crown of hair he captures her tender lips.

For Karin, she nearly forgot how good it felt to kiss him; due to her constant thinking and stress she had blocked-out all the good feelings in her memory.

Leaning into his tender lips she deepened the sweet touch—wildly their lips mingle and mash together like Tetris-pieces. The more they fit the speed and passion increases immensely; when the soccer-player shoulder her daring side by nibbling on his bottom lip roughly, his brain begins to blur with lust.

Breaking for a moment his teal-orbs hazed with passion make her heart ram harder into her chest—she thought the muscle might jump out of her chest. Karin gasps as his hands grasp her thighs tightly and she wraps her legs around his strong torso; their lips connect again and the lustful battle commences.

Toshiro clumsy approaches the door—her back roughly impacts the wooden-board filling the air with a sensual _bang_ and another gasp to awaken from the raven-beauty.

Her hand twists the brass-knob and the door opens, twisting the safe-feeling of home to wrap around their intertwined bodies. Toshiro goes to step into the house but trips and the two go tumbling to the ground; he twists and lands on the hard-wood floor and the soccer-player lays on his sculpted chest.

At first the male-model thought the mood was shot because of his _little_ fuck up, but when Karin straddles his waist and kicks the door shut he was proven wrong. "Damn…" Toshiro snickers; her lips quickly take his and her hands tighten their hold on his thin auburn t-shirt. "I'm falling deeper in love with you by the second," he whispers; her cheeks burn bright for the romantic-comment.

"Honestly…" Karin's voice cracks as the words of her coach quiet replay in the back of her mind. "I don't know if I'll _ever_ stop loving you"—he cups her face with a warm hand and kisses her gently one last time.

"There's an outfit on the bed," her eyes widen for the news, "Shower and get ready. I want to take you out on a date to forget whatever's worrying you."

"Toshi…" Karin mutters in shock—she thought him ask her: what's bothering her, but for some reason, she beyond grateful for his choice.

"I know you'll tell me what's bothering you when you're ready," his eyes looks towards the necklace dangling around her neck. "I waited this long for you, now I'm prepared to wait for you forever."

But… there's always a calm before the storm.

 _._

 _._

 _._

 _Image of the chapter: an abandoned sewage tunnel._

 _Hey everyone, I just wanted to tell you all that next chapter will have a lemon posted afterwards marked like the first lemon—also, there aren't just going to be two lemons in this entire story. I have plans for many more with Karin and Toshiro—honestly, I thought it over for months and constantly worked the plot for them; I really wanted to add more in since I need to work on my lemon-game. So, I have revised and worked the plot for that gradual progress of lemons._

 _I apologize for the long wait from before and thank you for reviewing still! It encourages me to continue going on with this story since I have another story, for another anime that is currently the hit-and-run of the bunch._

 _I hope to hear from you guys and can't wait to read your comment, especially with Byakuya being mixed into the story now. I hope he doesn't come-off too much as a creep, but I needed him to drop that card off with Karin—it's a huge things for the plotting._

 _Anyways, until next time,_

 _~Bleachlover2346_


	18. Chapter 17

_~Why not? ~_

Sand imprinted by two sets of foot-prints, both side-by-side—in the near distance the ocean rolls onto the beach washing away their presence. But the air lingers throughout the area, carrying the brisk scent of salt, sandy minerals and a bubbly laughter dancing through the air like a silk ribbon.

Giant and tall walls of rocks cover the area creating the illusion of a new world. Moss calmly rolls down the edges of two large brown colored stones, water tranquilly raining over the edge onto the sandy bottom.

Skin glowing bright from the white-moon—eyes bright with joy as they look deep into her lover as he pulls her close into his firm body. Her long arms wrap around his neck, careful not to drop her sneakers in hand.

A warm hand covers her cheek, cupping it perfectly like a glove. The white laced dress tight to her frame rubs against his neck from the long sleeves, but drive him madder by the second.

No matter what he gave the soccer-player to wear she looks like a goddess in his eyes—a sight he could never get sick of. Her long ink-black locks sit braided to the side with several long loss strains blowing in the breeze—for the first time (in a long time), her face is clean of any make-up and her freckles shatter her cheeks like tiny kisses.

"Are you ready?" he whispers into her ear.

Karin rolls her grey eyes for the question, "What are you? Kristen Grey?"

"Well…" his eyes look over her body and bites his lip, "I wouldn't mind tying you up."

"You're such a pervert," Karin giggles with a playful punch to Toshiro's chest. "If anyone is being tied up, it's going to be you."

"Miss. Innocent-Karin is a masochist. The press will have a field day with that kind of juicy information," the singer snickers; pulling out a blindfold from his jean pocket he covers her eyes slowly, making sure to trigger all her senses: touch, sound, taste and smell.

"I just like—"she starts but the playboy runs a finger over her lips to interrupt.

"Control," his voice is husky and deep as he whispers into her ear—the soccer-players legs buckle slightly. For once she doesn't have control—she is completely vulnerable to his desires.

Running a gentle hand down her arm Toshiro grins devilishly—he liked—no, loved the sight. Seeing the woman he knew was obsessed with control, weak and fragile in the palm of his hand was a turn-on, especially when it comes to Karin. Somehow, magically, she knew how to drive him mad with the simplest gestures—even now, as she bites and sucks on her bottom lip he could feel his craving enhancing.

Bending down onto the sand, the mineral shape into his knee as he takes the sneakers from her hands swiftly. One after the other, he slides the shoes onto her feet like Prince-Charming for Cinderella.

His eyes trail up her long pale legs as they shine in the moonlight, even from the sand below she managed to take his breath away.

' _Fuck, this is bad,'_ his player side growls in his ear, but quickly he shakes the thought and stand, taking her hand in the process.

Slowly—carefully—precise and gently, he leads the soccer-star into a darken cove damped by waves and the morning tide, smooth throughout many years of being beaten by passing waves.

A few smitten laughs seek through the stone as Karin stumbles and tightly grips his arm—his eyes never leave her form while directing her to the spot. This will be one of his finest memories, another that Karin has managed to have the starring role.

The crystal wave-lengths of light dance over the walls of the cove creating light within the dark. Several large pillars of stone hole the rock above. But, near the edge of the cove there is a single skylight—looking up to the wondrous starry-night sky with the large harvesting moon. The light beaming from the hole reveals a single blanket on the smooth rock, a basket and white flowers.

The singer guides his date to the blanket with skill—his many dates (before) have made him a professional at guiding women, especially in bed but that would never happen with the nix before him.

Once seated, he sits beside her, briefly listening to the silence of the waves and watching her feature bask in the moonlight shinning with vulnerability.

The way she bit her lip slowly, roughly tensing the tender and soft skin—his fingers run against the goosebumps forming across her skin as he cups her cheek—the scent of salt, fresh vanilla shampoo and sweat driving his instincts animalistic.

A roar comes from the ocean as their lips meet—his grip tightening on her jawline as they move together, sending the familiar and uncanny spark down his muscles causing them to tighten slightly. But, sneakily his fingers run through her black-locks to the blindfold—smoothly he pulls the end of the knot and the cloth falls from the athlete's eyes—he pulls back.

Slowly her lashes flutter and the sight soaks into her orbs—the moonlight skylight, soft blanket below, a basket and flowers.

"I'm a man of my word," the singer perfectly-timed placed the flowers within her hands to reveal projector.

A smiles creeps onto her face as she inhales the sweet scent of the daisies—the memory of them goofing around and his simple yet perfect date. All her worries of the day seem to wash away—Karin can finally relax.

Leaning her head into his shoulder she listens to the ocean—the feeling of his deep gaze on her face cover her senses but the player could care less.

"Thank you," she says within an exhausted sigh.

Toshiro slides a daisy into her raven locks silently—there was nothing to be said.

.

.

 _Why Not?_

 _._

 _._

Dark corner of the apartment loom with the roaring heat of the lite fire—silence is overlapped by laughter and scenes playing on the plate-screen. The only presence within the room is a single, short and emotional director.

Hand buried deep into a buttery bowl of popcorn with a mixture of condiments on the table in front of her—consisting of pickles, whipped cream, peanut butter, marshmallow's, M&M's and Nutella. Her hormones were scattered like the different foods sitting before her. How can someone be happy, sad and annoyed?

Bright violet eyes stuck on the television screen as she watches the child version of her lover running around the screen—behind the orange-haired and amber eye boy is a little girl clad in a pair of overalls, her hands are covering her eyes as she counts. The shaky hand of their father zooms into a tree where a young boy with stark-white hair peeks out and giggles before hiding again.

" _Ju-dai_ _!_ _Jū ichi-dai! Ju-nee-dai! (10, 11, 12)"_ —the little girl counts with a smile; the director leans further into the couch grasping the bowl tightly. " _Junbi ga dekite iru ka dō ka, koko ni kuru! (Ready or not, here I come)"._

Rubbing small circles around her tiny belly a tear runs down her cheek—a normal childhood, something she wanted and hopes for her own children. Her only friends were maids, her sister and brother—never people her own age, not to mention homeschooling and the press. Life was nothing but a glamorous circus.

University was her only way out—a place where she could meet people and experience the world around her, but it was a long-shot. Everyone treated her differently once they heard her name: _Kuchiki_ —nobles and billionaires. A snob.

Then one night, she ran into him—a press-fly with bright orange hair standing in the elevator of her apartment building. For months she noticed him following her, snapping pictures to make a pretty buck—every now and then she would dress-up extra-nice just for him. She made him think he was sly but in truth, she noticed him within a second.

But, within the elevator something happened—a daring moment or just plain attraction, but the proper-noble woman she was raised to be…vanished with a snarky comment and kiss. Never did she think (for a second) that, she'd fall in love with a press-bastard—but somehow, she did, completely head over heels. A devilish spark lead to this moment.

"I promise you—whoever you may be—that we will let you have a childhood," she whispers—a nearly impossible promise since everyone around them is famous: brothers, sister and friends, even themselves. How are they going to raise a child outside of the spotlight?

"Rukia?"—she flinches for the voice; hearing the keys being juggled and plastic bags ruffling the director leaves the couch.

"What is all this?" Rukia giggles—in front of her stood her lover with ten bags swaying from his arms. "I only wanted udon-noddles for dinner."

He places the bags on the counter and swiftly wraps the noble causing a squeak to echo the apartment. "And I only want my gorgeous pregnant girlfriend happy," he purrs into her ear, "so, I thought it would only be best to stock-up on your favorite things."

"Hmmm… what would I do without you?" she whispers while his hands run over her sides, only to rest on her stomach.

"Simply be bored," he answers.

" _Anata o mitsukemashitan! (Found you)"_ —Ichigo perks for the voice, his eyes dart to the screen only to see his sister and Toshiro.

"Please tell me you're not working right now," he growls; for the last few nights he's been telling the midget to relax for the both her health and the babies.

"I-I wasn't," Rukia sighs, "I just like watching these tapes."

He frowns for the silence—Ichigo's days within the press had taught him about the Kuchiki's and Rukia's life; it was one of the reasons she never wanted to have children or get married.

"I promise they will have that," he confirms; arms wrapped around her head and nose buried into her locks. "Even if it kills me I will make that happen, no matter what, Rukia."

.

.

 _Why not?_

 _._

 _._

Hot steam rolls down the four tinted windows—the slightest movement of the vehicle causing it to rock, but not enough for the outside-world to notice unless they closely examined the singers hummer.

Inside the metal machine sounds can be heard—moans, grunts and gasps for the tangled stars in the mist of passion. The raven-haired soccer-star's cheeks flushed pink, lips raw, hair messy from the mingling they've been doing within the driver's seat. Her white dress is lift while either leg rest around his waist, and a hard pressure sooths the burning heat within her body.

"Toshiro…" she whispers; his lips and tongue dance against her ivory neck driving her crazy in pleasure.

Hands slowly tugging on his shaggy white locks seemed to intensify as the heat blooms throughout the seat. The singer, lost in desire, seems to be in a trance—lips moving feverishly over the woman's body as his rough hands grasp her thighs. His many nights of those steamy make-out sessions that they would have in his bedroom, days of seeing her sweaty and hot after practice along with the many session of modeling he's been witnessed to—especially the bikini and half-naked shots—have finally lead to this burning point. Even if she were to stop him now, he'd be beyond pissed and in need of a get off, but mostly he probably wouldn't listen to single _damn_ word.

Her heat pressing through his jeans as he pushes her body against the steering-wheel only to hear a surprising _honk_ that only causes the singer to pull away from her body.

"Seems like someone lost their touch," Karin smirks with her eyes gazing down at the breathless performer.

Her banter sparked a fire, one that hasn't been lite in several years seeming as known of his ex's or emoji-hookup's dared to test him. But no, Karin—the one woman that seemed to be tying him down—hast to test, she's the only one that's done so… ever.

The last time had to be in his college years when they were at a party. She was drunk out of her mind and he had been tipsy. He was dancing with some random girl on the dancefloor when Karin managed to swiftly switch with the stranger—at this time neither were conscious of their actions. As she bumped and grinded on his body he began to notice several things—one, he was drunk—two, his best-friend was turning him on to the extreme—and three, he wanted her there and now. All immensely bad for a college drunk student. She had noticed him slowly down and unable to keep up with her hips, which lead to her first statement of him _'losing his touch'._

Raising a brow he looks up to the fluttered soccer-star, everything about her made him mad then and now.

.

.

.

Image of the chapter: two large rock walls with moss, on a beach with water flowing down onto the sand.

The lemon should be posted in a day or two depending on how I'm feeling after work tomorrow, but, keep watch for a notification.

Until next time,

~VintageTypeWriter2346


	19. Chapter 17:Lemon

**Warning: This chapter is strictly for the lemon for chapter 18. Readers who don't wish to read sexual scene, please feel free to skip this chapter! You have been warned.**

* * *

 _~Why not~_

Lust, slow burning amber of daring anger and passion shimmer through the two bright blue eyes of the singer—a gaze in which only forces a strong and desirable heavy sigh from the athletes' lips. Her lungs sweetly burned for air similar to the accelerating feeling after a long run—completely refreshing.

Hearing his breath just as labored—feeling his tight grasp around her thighs as her curved back presses against the wall remembers the soccer-star just how fit and muscular the singer truly is. The way the callouses from playing the guitar and holding microphones are rough and sensational to her smooth flesh—his red and tender lips glaze over her to briefly bring back the taste of his mouth, one that drags her deep into the waters of passion.

Mind blurred as tight must soothing tangled tugs of hair mix with a feverish kiss. Two delicate hands run down the hem and buttons of his shirt. One by one his flesh burn in need for hers, but mostly the strong heavily fog of care and affection engulf him completely.

After years of knowing and having Karin by his side he knows of the many nights of her aimless deeds—not tonight. He wasn't going to let her take control—have her focus on him only; he wanted to show how much be felt.

Taking her hand in his he kisses the tips of her fingers tenderly not missing a single inch of flesh—feeling her legs drop to the floor he doesn't stop, slowly running his lips cover her lace covered arms he notes the deep set shiver that runs through her skin. A hand cups her cheek as Karin bits her flush lip holding back a gentle moan as his lips slowly mash over her shoulder and neck, a hot tongue running over the flustered pulse of the raven haired beauty.

Eyes hooded her mind races through the different men in her past—how none gave her affection or made her mind haze with passion. None were like Toshiro in this moment—this was bad, it wouldn't be hard for her to become addicted to him hopelessly. As his hand slowly guides her neck to the side for more access she feels it, the uncontrollable feeling of her heart falling deeper for him.

He stops suddenly causing a whimper—hot eyes locking with hers sends another shiver down her spine causing her skin to prick.

"Tonight," he pants causing the lose strains of her hair to flutter with the puffs of his hot breath, "I'm taking care of you."

A simple statement sent fear, excitement and curiosity pulsing through her veins.

Skillfully he spins her form forcing her breast to press against the heated drywall. Karin gasps in shock before his lips pepper kisses down her neck to her back where the zipper sat solemnly.

Gradually he trails the zipper down her back—biting her lip in pleasure she feels each tooth of the zipper pop against her body welcoming hot heats of his breath on her flesh as his lips trail down her back. A high-pitch gasp erupts her lips as his teeth bring the strap of her bra back against her skin causing a _snap_ to echo the house.

She could feel the heat roar louder than before in her stomach from the way his eyes examine and remember each curve, freckle and scar on her back. Never, in a million year, did she think someone could make her so heated by simply unzipping a dress. About to completely give into the lusting fog she feel his hands tickle down her long legs before sweeping her off her feel like a bride.

A sweet giggle give the singer and opening as his lips meet hers and their tongues slowly work together as one. Her mind goes blank as the sweet taste of mint, watermelon and sweet candies send her sense overboard, never noticing his trail to the staircase and bedroom until the scent of their mixed aromas enter her nose.

Placing her down on the edge of the mattress, Toshiro slowly breaks the kiss, hands grasping hands like fine silk. He crouches down before her, her eyes darkened by desire and clouded with passion, the singer kisses up her long legs, leaving tiny nips and bites here and there.

Each sharp paining making her arch her back and lay on the white sheet with heavy and fast gasps singing in his ears. Her eyes widen as the bottom of her dress raises—the rough pads of his fingers sending her over the edge and the tingling sensation between her legs to grow to unknown point. Then, as though he knew exactly what to do, she feels the hot and bump moisture of his tongue running over her hip and thin thong line.

"To—oh!" she squeals; slowly feeling him pull the thin damp fabric from her hips and down her down her legs. Feeling the room spinning she looks over to her lover to see him at the end of the bed, peeling off the shirt in a fellow movement.

Her eyes zero-in on the rippling muscles of his rib-cage, the rolls of abs that she desperately wanted against her chest. The dangling sound of two dog-tags hitting his chest seems like a starting bell for the singer as the view of her innocently in front of him, on _his_ bed panting and flustered. Toshiro captures her lips smoothly, leaving no room for protest or roughness—just tender movements.

He is gentle as he pulls her further up the sheets—chest against chest—stopping several times to look into each other's eyes to examine the desire building up. The once daring anger in his ocean eyes had dissolved into another emotion: _love_.

Even as he lifts the white lace dress over her head and slowly takes in the sight of her body, the _love_ in his eyes never wonder. It makes her heart race, skin prick and stomach flutter like it was her first time—it felt like it is, with _Toshiro_ it was like there was never anyone else.

Body pressing down lightly over the petite soccer-star, hand grasping the inner of her thigh whilst balancing himself on his knees. Two teal orbs observe the fabric slowly trailing up her body—hold back a pleasant purr of lust his eyes engross in her image. The soft curves of her frame, slim waist, deep but settle crest from muscle, a few stretch-marks near her hips that glisten with slight hints of pink. His heart clutches once she tries to cover the flaw that seem to hold his gaze.

Leaning down his lips graze over the pink lines tenderly—he could remember their elementary and high-school years, how her growth spurt and trying different diets had created these marks. He could remember her boyfriend at the time telling her that she wasn't _pretty_ or _thin_ enough for him—he'll never forget that day because it was the same day he got into his first fight and suspension.

Fingers lacing through hers he pulls her closer sending a moan from her lips. His kisses trail around her belly-button, around her hips and up to her grey laced bra. Toshiro rises from his tender action and looks deeply into her eyes—the one question that seemed to echo is mind from the past, one that she used to cry to him about because of the assholes at their school— _am I good enough?_

"You didn't ha—"her breath hitches as his fingers run over the area in question.

"You're perfect," his tone is stern as the statement vibrates her ears. His hands tightly on hers as he they support him, "stretchmarks, bruises, wrinkles and stubbornness—I love them all Koursaki Karin."

Cheeks painted pink she smiles shyly—the same smile that causes her lips to thin, brings the singer back to their youth, usually follows a harmonizing laughter and joy; it's something that he loves so much that he never wanted to see it fade.

"You're so cheesy," she whispers as her lips brush against him and lock together bringing them both back into their passionate frenzy.

' _Clink'_ whirls the bedroom as the straps of the grey laced bra slowly slips down her pale shoulders. A large hand crawls under her pale breast—rough and gradual movements sounds deep set groans buzzing against his lips, such become more louder and intense as his thumb rubs over the perked and hard nipple.

A yelp enters the air as her back falls onto the mattress from a swift forceful pull on her thighs. Grey meets the ceiling as the gentle familiar texture of her underwear rolling down her hips, thighs and calf tingle through her skin. A silent gasp triggers a redness around her neck as strong hand runs over her heated womanhood, and the heat of his warm mouth clamps over her breast.

Intense swirls of his tongue over the pink bud leads to heavy and loud pants pulling a smirk on the singers' lips. Slipping a finger into her velvet walls he listens to her heated mules before switching breast.

Her hand twist the ends of the white sheets as the other tightly grasps his locks—her vision blacked with bright spots from the passion rifting through her body. "T—Toshir—Oh!" she bits her lip roughly almost to the point of shedding blood.

Feelings the tightness around his fingers he begins to quicken the short strokes. His body burning for release as her calves brush against his boxers motioning a groan from his lips. It was time.

Panting heavy her eyes open as his lips leave her breast and fingers vanish—her mind click at the sight of Toshiro sitting up. Bringing her hands to his waistline she pulls down the elastic grey band and the sight of slight veins and tiny hairs enter her vision.

Tossing the fabric from his boxers onto the floor her grey eyes scale up his body until they meet his. Her hand wraps around the large base making him grim from the sensitive area. Slowly she runs her smooth palm up and down in a rhythmic motion—he leans down and captures her lips while guiding her body back against the bed.

Covering her hand with his he positions himself between her thighs, his lips never leaving her in their messy dance of passion. Gentle strokes against her wet lips sends a shiver through her body, "I need you," she whispers.

Pushing his way deep inside her walls he feels the velvet heat against his sensitive skin, the throbbing of her heat and smooth curves as he grits his teeth together. "Fuck…" he pants while fighting the strong urge to finish.

After a moment or two he begins to move—it's not as it was the first time, on that faithful drunken night when they were rough and hungry, but, smooth and tenderly not worried about speed or time nor what would happen in the morning.

Her nails slightly dig into his back as he moves sharply, pressing into the deepest corner of her womb sending long and powerful waves of pleasure. Tongues curled and head deep in his chest she pants with heavy moans lingering. Lips run over his chest in a heated fashion as her legs wrap around his narrow hips. Gradual his thrust become powerful as small beads of sweat run down his neck and onto her skin—in a heat of passion and pleasure their lips meet and hungry sloppy movements mash together as they move together as one.

Rolling her hips with his thrust he groans for the sudden pleasure—a daring and bold statement. He lifts her easily into his lap allowing her hands to tangle into his lock and surrender a little control to the athlete. She takes the hint and begins to bounce in short strokes, his hands grasp her buttocks while she grinds her heats around his staff.

A low groan hums against the middle of her breast before his mouth finds one of her nipples during their bouncing movements. Her walls tighten drastically around him as he bites down on the tiny bud.

She's close so is he.

In a blur he spins her around—back pressed against his chest as his face is buried deep onto her neck. The heat of his lips on her neck increase as his thrust become slightly rougher. Her fingers tighten in his hair as an unthinkable wave of pleasure begins to rush over her form.

"Mhph!" she moans as a new heat rushes into her womb from his sensitive tip.

Nose to nose they pant before collapsing onto the messy sheets tangles together as one.

* * *

End of lemon.

So, this is probably the first lemon that I've written that was this details and focused on emotions rather than just rough pleasure. I've been reading different fanfictions for this pairing and must say: there isn't any really passionate lemons. I don't know if it's just me, but, I thought I would try and make one.

Until next time,

~VintageTypeWriter2346


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